


odds and ends

by tall_wolf_of_tarth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Meet-Cute, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, Past Traumatic Events, Poldark AU, Smut, Trains, collection, squire au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 27,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23026057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tall_wolf_of_tarth/pseuds/tall_wolf_of_tarth
Summary: Collections of one-shots. Most are for teen and up or mature, but there is occasional smut.———-Chapter 24Period Drama Trope: Emotionally repressed man smoulders in a corner. Hyle Hunt
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Addam Marbrand/Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 386
Kudos: 455





	1. Dirty Squire AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has a squire who is really tall and obstinate. 
> 
> Brienne is young adult in here, but pretending to be a teenage boy.

Dirty Squire AU

or the one where Jaime has a really tall squire who refuses to wash himself.

“Which one is yours?” Tyrion asked Jaime in the melee. The field in front of them was full of boys smacking each other with tourney weapons. “Brien Storm is still my squire” replied Jaime back to him and pointed at the boy in question, currently smacking a weasly looking redhead to the ribs with a mace. “He is over there.”

“Oh gods, he's grown even taller” moaned Tyrion. Brien had now picked up a sword and smacked an average looking boy to the sword hand. The other squire squealed and dropped his sword.

“He is not half bad with the sword.” Brien was good, Jaime knew. That's why he had chosen him as squire. The boy was not half bad with other work as well. He took good care of Jaime's clothes and armour, never touched any girls or strong drink and always woke up before anyone else. Brien was a quick learner, if not quick with his words. The boy was stubborn though, about some things. When Jaime scolded him, which didn't happen often though, Brien always looked back at him with his startling blue eyes and argued his case.

“I can give away my dinner if I want to, Ser. It's mine.” He had grumbled last month when Jaime had discovered that the boy had been giving away his dinner every night to a beggar child on a street. They had argued for days until Jaime had relented and just ordered more food for their dinner.

“I quite like him,” Jaime said to Tyrion and watched Brien Storm beat up all other squires in the field.

**

“Ser, what are you doing?” his squire whispered to Jaime. The boy was looking at him with his impossibly blue eyes filled with worry.

“Dying,” Jaime whispered back to the boy.

“No,” the boy said, “no, you must live.”

So he did.

**

Roose Bolton planned to get a good ransom for his prisoners. Tywin Lannister would pay good money for his errant hair, but Jaime's stomach twisted with worry about the boy.

“And what will we do with you, boy?” looked Lord Bolton at Brien Storm who shuffled his feet, stared the ground and managed to croak.

“Perhaps my father, Ser.”

“And who is your father, boy?” The boy had been evasive about his past but was forced to tell now.

“My father is Selwyn Tarth, Lord of Tarth and lord Evenstar. He will pay a ransom for me.” Well, thought Jaime. He had known that Brien was a bastard of some lord in Stormlands, but he hadn't known which. Tarth, he didn't know much about the island, but it was small and insignificant.

“Why would Lord Tarth pay ransom for his bastard son?” asked Roose Bolton. The boy went red in the face and forced out: “I'm his only one. He has no other children, Ser. If you allow me to write to him, he will pay for me.”

“I thought there was a daughter, a true born child.” Roose Bolton looked Brien Storm with narrowed eyes.

“She ran away, Ser.” The boy looked up now with defiant eyes. “There is only me now.”

He was allowed to write to his father.

“Did _you_ ran away as well, boy?” asked Jaime when Brien picked up the quill to start his letter to Tarth. They were at maester Qyburns rooms and had just finished Jaime's letter to his father.

Brien went red on the face again and nodded slightly to Jaime. If the boy had run away from home his father might not care what happened to his bastard, even if he was his only surviving child.

“Then we must write that you beg his pardon.” Brien nodded and looked sick.

“Don't worry, Brien. Mollifying angry fathers is a knowledge I have much experience of, so I'll help you with your letter.” Although begging his fathers pardon had never helped Jaime with anything.

“Write: _Please Father forgive your errant son for his insolence and_ _disobedience._ _”_

Brien nodded again, dipped his quill to the inkwell and started to write. He had quite a nice hand, and Jaime had used him as his scribe often enough. The boy worried his plump lip with his teeth and drew out each letter carefully.

Maybe it was the fever from his stump but Jaime's heart clenched for the boy. He hoped that Selwyn Tarth was a kind father and would help his disobedient child. He leaned over to check Brien's progress.

“Damn, it boy! I asked you to write a _son_ , not _child_!” _Why_ was the damn boy so stubborn?

**

“Mothers mercy,” laughed Jaime when he saw his squire after he was finally let out of his cell in Harrenhal. “I haven't seen you for three weeks and you have managed grown even taller.” The boy frowned instead of being happy about their reunion. The cells where lord Bolton had escorted them had not been too terrible, they were not the dungeons and lord Bolton had not denied them drink or food but Jaime he had worried about the boy, who had been in the room next to him. The walls had been thick enough that they hadn't been able to talk with each other.

Qyburn, the maester who had treated Jaime's stump daily had been kind enough to let Jaime to talk Brien through the door once and the boy had sounded calm and told Jaime he had been treated as well he had been.

“You still haven't managed to grow any beard though,” he teased the boy now.

“Lord Bolton wishes you to join him to dinner tonight.” the servant who had unlocked their doors explained with a sour face. Behind him, another servant was carrying saddlebags to their cells.

“These are _our_ things, Ser Jaime” the boy looked back to him.

“Our ransoms are arriving, Brien. We are no longer prisoners, but guests of Lord Bolton.”

“You are welcome to the castle as you wish, my lord, as long as you won't leave the gate.” the servant agreed behind them.

“Fetch me some clean clothes, boy, and bring your own too.” Jaime was still wearing his blood-stained clothes from the travel and Brien didn't look too clean either. “We must bathe before dinner.”

***

“Gods damn it boy, get out of that ratty shirt and give me the brush.”

“I'd rather not Ser, if you please.” Brien was staring back at him with his blue eyes and looked as stubborn as an ox. The boy had gone almost puce on the face when Jaime had undressed and made the boy to scrub his back and arms and wash him thoroughly. It felt so fucking good to be clean again and he planned now to give Brien the same scrub down, even if he only had one hand to do it. The boy was standing next to him in his stained shirt that was miraculously still dry regardless of the amount of soapy water Jaime had managed to splash around.

“I'm just going to scrub your back, child. I'm not going to molest you.” The boy looked back at him suspiciously.

“You need to wash.”

“I'll wash myself Ser.”

“Fine, then. Take off your shirt and scrub yourself clean.”

“I'd rather not Ser.” The boy stared back at him. “To take off my shirt, Ser” he proceed to explain.

“I'm not interested in what you've got underneath it. Take it off and wash yourself.”

“I'll wash later, Ser.” The gods damn stubborn child. What is it with boys and not washing? Why was there such aversion to soap when they hit their teens? Brien had been clean enough until their visit to Riverland, and Jaime didn't understand what had gone into his squire now.

“You are my squire, child, and it's my job to make sure you are clean and well dressed in the dinner. You'll wash now.” he pointed his stump at him.

“No.” the stubborn boy sat down on the bench and wrapped his arms around him.

“No?” Jaime was now losing his patience.

“No.” the boy replied and stared his dirty feet.

“Fine then,” said Jaime and picked up a bucket of soapy water from the bench with his only hand. The boy didn't look up from his feet and didn't notice his impending doom. It took Jaime some manoeuvring that hurt his stump like hell but he upturned the bucket of warm water on the boy.

Brien Storm stood up from the bench with a gasp and Jaime saw with satisfaction that his squire was now very thoroughly soaked with soapy water.

“What. Did. You. Just. do.” Brien yelled at him and his pretty blue eyes were now very very angry. His wet shirt clung to his body and...

and..

“ _Oh,_ ” said Jaime. The boy stood in front of him in his-- _her_ \--wet shirt and Jaime could clearly see that Brien had small little tits peeking through the shirt and that there was not a cock where it should have been one and that his squire was not a boy at all, but a very tall and angry girl.

“Yes, _oh_.” said the girl.

“You're a girl,” said Jaime stupidly.

“Fuck you.” snapped the girl at Jaime and added “Ser” as an afterthought. She then turned around, picked up an empty bucket, threw the brush and a bar of soap in it and stomped off as far away from Jaime as possible, which wasn't very far at all actually, and finally took off her dirty shirt and started to scrub her very tall, gangly but still clearly girl body with angry determination while Jaime couldn't do anything else but stand naked as his name day and stare at her. Luckily the girl had her wide back turned at him and did not see Jaime's cock twitch.

**

“Your father has sent an envoy with your ransom, Brien Storm. It is expected to arrive tomorrow.” Lord Bolton explained conversationally at the dinner while Jaime stared at the lump of meat on his plate. “Three hundred dragons. A knight's ransom for a bastard child.” the odious man continued while eating the prunes. “Congratulations, your father surely plans to legitimise you.”

Brien Storm wasn't looking very happy to that prospect though and was cutting up the food on her plate. The insolent child was still angry with him. The girl, and Jaime now couldn't understand how he hadn't seen it before that she was a girl, hadn't said a single word at him at the baths. Not that he had spoken with her either.

How could she be angry with him – it was her who had lied to him. She had lied to him for all these years. It was him who should be angry with her, for she was deceitful and secretive. The girl finished cutting up her food – Jaime still didn't knew her real name - threw her silverware to the table and picked up Jaime's plate and swapped it with her own.

Stupid stubborn ox of a girl, Jaime cursed in his head while he ate his food. The smoke from chimney burned his eyes while he pretended to listen to Roose Bolton to talk about the prunes.

Surely she must be the daughter who ran away from Tarth, Jaime knew now. It hadn't made sense that Selwyn Tarth would pay good ransom for a runaway bastard, but for a true-born heir it made sense. Or maybe Selwyn Tarth just loved his child, and wanted her back.

“Your sister, what is her name? Are you worried for her, Brien?” he asked the girl quietly. She was eating her own food now with little delicate bites. Jaime had always thought that Brien had too good table manners for a teenage boy. How could anyone look at her and think that she is a boy? But Roose Bolton or any other guests at the table didn't seem to see it. The girl turned away from him and pretended to listen to other guests. There was a talk about bear-baiting.

Now that he knew her secret, everything made sense. Why she always had to be better, stronger and quicker than any other squires. And why she never went to have fun with other boys. An envoy from Tarth would come tomorrow, and take her back to the island. It was unlikely that Jaime would ever see her again.

“I'm sorry,” he told her quietly. “I'm sorry about what happened at the baths.”

“Brienne. My name is Brienne” she blurted to him later when they walked back to their chambers.

**

The stormlanders were lead by a tall fair man who had familiar blue eyes that didn't leave Brienne as soon as they landed on her.

“Father,” the girl cried and started to walk across the field towards her people. Will he punish her, Jaime wondered. Will he hit her, embarrass her or lock her in her rooms? Marry her off to some greedy sellsword?

“Father, forgive me.” the girl had stopped walking now and was wiping her face with her sleeve.

But Selwyn Tarth didn't look angry. Instead of yelling he unmounted his horse and pulled his errant daughter to his arms.

“My child, let me look at you” the man cried now too. “You've grown so tall.”

“Your time will come too, Ser Jaime.” chuckled lord Bolton next to Jaime. “I've heard that your uncle's convoy has left Maidenpool yesterday.” It was uncle Kevan who would bring his ransom, not his father.

What would it feel like to have a father who would personally come to save him from imprisonment? Jaime would never know. Tarth envoy was now approaching them.

“Which is the man you squired for, child?” Selwyn Tarth boomed. The man was strong as an ox and together with Brienne, they looked like a pair of giants.

“This is Ser Jaime.” Brienne blushed. “Father, I've won all the melee's I've fought.” Jaime wasn't sure that Selwyn would appreciate him letting her only daughter to fight in the melee.

“And how has your master treated you?” Panic twisted Jaime's insides now.

“Ser Jaime has been kind, generous and fair to me, father. He has taught me well, and I thank him for it.”

Kind? Jaime thought. Was I kind when I told him off for giving away her dinner for the beggar boy? Generous? I should have given her a better armour to fight in, and was I fair when made her strip naked when she didn't want to? But it was too late now to make amends. She would go to her beautiful island with her kind and forgiving father. And Jaime would be left behind to wait for his own ransom and his own escort back and he would never meet anyone like Brienne Tarth again.

“Very well then, child. Say goodby to Ser Jaime before we leave.” Brienne watched him now with her blue eyes. She looked...

“Will you shake hands with me, Ser?” she said quietly. Shake hands with her? If only...

“Of course, Brienne.” he managed to sigh.

“Farewell then, Brienne of Tarth” Jaime said to his squire when he took her hand and hoped that he could kiss it, or at least never let go of it.


	2. The long engagement (modern arranged marriage AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime finds himself to be engaged to Brienne Tarth

When Jaime stepped into the drawing-room he didn't find his betrothed there, but the very same tall woman who half an hour ago had run into him and spilt a gross green drink all over his new suit.

“You,” he exclaimed dumbly to the woman. To his slight satisfaction, he saw that the woman still had green stains all over her dress. It almost made the otherwise drab grey sack interesting. At least _he_ had a clean shirt on, even if he still smelled slightly of kale.

“Mr Lannister” the woman spat at him. _She_ didn't look surprised at all.

“So, where is she?” She looked back at him silently with her pretty blue eyes and sat down to the garish red and gold sofa that sat at the middle of his aunts drawing-room. “Who?”

“Your ward, or cousin or whoever she is to you. _My_ _betrothed_.” The woman lifted her eyebrows.

“Brienne Tarth. Go get her.”

It was then when his aunt Genna busted into the room.

“Jaime, I've been looking all over you. Oh, excellent, I see you two have already met.”

She then grabbed Jaime by his arm and frogmarched him to the sofa.

“Brienne dear, this is Jaime, your betrothed. Jaime, please shake hands with Brienne Tarth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one is very short, but there will be more of this AU. Possibly even today.


	3. The long engagement (modern arranged marriage AU) part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV. Their first formal date.

Brienne hadn't planned to spill Hot Pie's Green Fork at Jaime Lannisters ugly tie but she couldn't have been happier when she realised who the angry blond man yelling at her was. It would be sure now that Jaime Lannister would break off their betrothal after the first meeting.

This was Brienne's forth traditional betrothal and she didn't expect much of this one either. She had been wishing that Jaime Lannister would be at least polite to her but after the smoothie incident, she couldn't be sure that she could even expect basic decency. Hopefully he wouldn't be such an ass like Ron Connington had been, with his stupid antics with the roses.

Brienne had actually quite liked her first betrothed, Bryen Caron. Their formal dates (and not-so-formal fumblings in university dorm rooms afterwards) had been pleasant enough. Bryen and Brienne had similar wishes for their potential marriage (to live at Stormlands but not on his or her estate, have two or three kids, to travel a lot together) and it had been a terrible shock when Bryen had suddenly died of swine flu before their official engagement could be announced.

Her second and third betrothals, well best not to think about those two assholes she had been set up by her father. But Brienne still remembered the way her father's shoulders had slumped when she had told him that she ended the betrothal to Wagstaff. She can't end _this_ betrothal herself, her father would be devastated. His illness had taken all joy out of his life, and Brienne had only seen him happy when he had told her about this betrothal to Lannister heir so she was not going to be the one who would break this off. Not that she would have to, Jaime Lannister would surely do it for her as soon as their formal date would end. There was no way that Lannister heir would allow this go on until the official engagement.

Said man sat now across the horrible sofa and sneered at her.

“You're going to have to pay for my suit, _bride_.” He spat out “bride” like it was a curse. She rolled her eyes at him.

“I'm sure you have many other, equally pretentious suits at your disposal. And I'm not your bride.”

“You ruined my tie too. I liked that tie.”

“That tie looked like it was made out of this sofa. Your aunt surely has access more of this horrid fabric so you can have as many red and gold ties as you wish.”

“Those are Lannister colours, you'll have to get use to them, _bride_.”

Gods, how is she going to suffer through this once, let alone 12 times?

“I'm not your bride. Do you even know what a betrothal is?” He let out a huff and laughed.

“Yes. It means that I have to sit here with you every Saturday morning for the next three months unless one of us calls it off or we get engaged for real.” He then upped his horrible sneer.

“Can't wait when that happens, can you? ” Brienne didn't bait at this obvious insult.

“So until we are actually engaged you'll have to call me by my name. Which is Brienne.”

“And my name is Jaime, not Mr Lannister.”

They then proceeded to stare at each other angrily with great enthusiasm. It was Lannister who looked away first, which Brienne took as a win. He would surely now break off the betrothal. Men can't stand women who win the argument.

Better be sure though. “So, what's wrong with you?” she asked him. “I mean besides the obvious.”

“What do you mean, besides the obvious?” Lannister had perked back up now.

“Well, you are arrogant, rude and obnoxious, but there's got to be something fundamentally wrong with you.” She narrowed her eyes at him and he lifted his chin and chuckled.

“Well you're not exactly a prize yourself, _Brienne_.”

“I know I'm not, that's why I'm asking.” Jaime Lannister was good looking, rich and should be beating off willing women with a stick and not sitting in betrothal meeting with ugly and unmarriageable Brienne.

“It can't be because Aerys,” she continued. “I mean, Ramsey Bolton got 27 marriage proposals in the prison, clearly your incident with Aerys shouldn't be an issue for rich heiresses to prevent them marrying you, so there must be something else wrong with you.”

Something flashed in the eyes of Jaime Lannister and he decided to attack.

“Why don't you tell me what's wrong with _you_? I mean besides the obvious.” He looked pointedly at her. Brienne didn't bite that either.

“I mean why are _you_ agreeing to this? You're still young, I'm sure that there are men who are willing to climb _that_ -” he waved his hand towards her and continued. “– or haven't you found anyone strong enough?” Gods, he really was disgusting. Good looking, yes, but so unlikable.

Truth was, Brienne only agreed to this trial engagement to appease her dying father. She had no plans of marrying anyone now, let alone to this horrible sneering man. She would have to marry eventually, or at least have a child, to pass on the title of Evenstar and everything else that came with it, but she wasn't going to do that now. Or with Jaime Lannister.

“I agreed to this because my father asked me to.” He seemed to find the answer amusing.

“Do you always do what your father asks you to do?” She thought about Humfrey Wagstaff's broken collarbone.

“No.”

Their half an hour ended sooner than she noticed. Genna Frey, pleasant and friendly lady who Brienne had met twice before, hurried back to the drawing-room and clasped her plump hands in front of her chest, looking at Brienne and Jaime like she expected them to burst into a song together. When that didn't happen she gently shuffled Brienne out of the drawing-room and into a town car she had arranged for her. “Well my dear,” the lady chirped to Brienne through the car window, “I bet you can't wait to see Jaime again next Saturday.”

Brienne didn't expect to meet him ever again, so it took her by complete surprise when he showed up to their second formal date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arranged marriages in Westerosi have evolved in the last three hundred years and they are basically like this:
> 
> 12 weeks of formal dates which used to have a chaperone, but nowadays don't. Every Saturday morning the couple will sit and chat in some stuffy drawing-room. This is called a betrothal, and in that point, they are not yet engaged, but basically dating to find out if they wish to be engaged or not. They would talk about what each person expects of the marriage, where they would live, how many children they would like to have and generally see if they like each other or not. Theoretically, either party can call betrothal off without embarrassment but in truth, women are almost always get sneered at if betrothal fails. 
> 
> After 12 weeks of formal dating, actual engagement happens. Contracts, prenups etc are negotiated and signed. Couple will move in together. Traditionally wedding will come year after the first formal meeting or the engagement.


	4. The long engagement (modern arranged marriage AU) part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their second formal date, they mainly yell at each other about the Blue Knight.

On their second formal date, they mainly yell at each other about the Blue Knight.

“I read your article, and it was a load of bollocks.” Jaime Lannister sat on the sofa, in a _new_ new suit and a new tie that matched the sofa exactly. He felt slightly ridiculous, but he wasn't going to let the wench win. The wench, as he had now dubbed her in his head, was sitting across him in another drab dress. This one was slightly too short for her and her legs went on for leagues.

“Jaime, do try to be polite” groaned his aunt and stood up from her chair.

“Load of bollocks?” Brienne turned towards him now. “Do you have any actual arguments against my article or are you only capable to come up with plain insults?” Aunt Genna looked at them with delight and bounced out of the drawing-room.

“It was a load of bollocks, I mean how did you even get a PhD? Your article was misleading, everyone knows that the Blue Knight _had_ Lannister connections.”

“Well I'm sorry but I went through every original source that is available about the Blue Knight and there is no proof of any significant Lannister connections...” her voice started to rise. Good, good. Let the hate flow through you, thought Jaime. She got so wonderfully red when she was angry.

“Apparently you didn't go through _every_ source, we have tons of materials in Casterly Rock only which you clearly didn't look at all.”

“The Lannister archives have been unavailable for the last two hundred years, they are either lost or have never existed at all.” She was full red now and her eyes shined most viciously. It looked delightful.

“I don't know what you are talking about, I've read the documents myself and they prove that your article about Blue Knight is a load of bollocks.”

She looked at him with wide blue eyes and her mouth closed with a quick snap. He felt victorious. He could be generous now when he had won the argument.

“I did like your book though. About the Blue Knight's time in Rainbow Guard.” In fact, he had loved the book, well, until he had realised that it was his betrothed who had written it. “Although it was slightly tedious at the places and the cover was ugly.” She didn't respond to that which was disappointing.

“What's your next book about?” He had been crestfallen last year when he had found out that the mysterious B. Tarth only had written one book, but now he had insight directly from the author when the next one would appear.

The author hadn't found her tongue yet and stared back at him looking slightly shocked.

“Your next book, _bride_. You said in your interview with Westerosi Time that your next book will be out at the end of the year.”

Instead of answering, she asked him quietly. “Why didn't you call this off, Jaime?” It felt like the fire had gone out of her.

“Our formal dates? With all the fun we are having, why would I?” Why hadn't he, he had asked himself this morning. Last Saturday, after their first date he had gone home, dug out and read every email that Aunt Genna had sent him about his betrothed and each of which he had promptly ignored. And when he had read them all he went and googled the rest about mysterious Brienne Tarth. What he had found hadn't been anything he would expect from a prospective bride his family would stuff at him.

She had written a historical fiction book about Blue Knight that had been quite popular, well that had been the best part. She had a PhD in Medieval history of Westeros. She had two gold and one silver medals in classical sword fighting (mixed weaponry), one gold medal and numerous others in diving. There had been videos. Most of them had been... Infuriating? Jaime really didn't find the correct word of the feeling he got when he saw Brienne Tarth perform a dive of 10 meters and getting 112.3 points for it. None of it made her a suitable society wife for a Lannister, except that she was an heir to Evenstar, Lord of Tarth.

She sat now with a frown and wrung her hands.

Jaime had almost opened his mouth to ask her about her use of morningstar but she lifted her eyes back to him and asked, “Do you really have original sources about Blue Knight in Casterly Rock?”

“Yes, there is a room in the attic that is full of old books and documents. I've spent a lot of time there hiding and reading.”

“Gods damn it!” Brienne had suddenly stood up from the sofa and stomped to the window.

“Seven hells!” she was rubbing her face now. Jaime didn't understand what had happened.

“What's wrong?” he asked her when she turned back to look at him. The question seemed to aggravate her more.

“What's not wrong?” Her blue eyes were wide with fury.

“First, my father is dying, maybe, and his deathbed wish seems to be me marrying. Secondly, I'm apparently marrying – _you_!” she waved her hand at his direction. “So, I'm faced with either of my father dying, which would be terrible, or him not dying, which would be great, but then I'd have to marry – _you_!” She did the hand wave thing again. “And thirdly, as you eloquently put yourself my last article is now a load of bollocks, and to top it all I now have to bin my next book or rewrite it completely. Except I can't rewrite it, can I? because the Lannister archives that have the necessary sources are not available to anyone.”

Jaime couldn't do anything else but stare at her stupidly.

“My next book is based on my article about the Blue Knight and her Lannister connections. And now it's ruined. So thanks for that, _bridegroom_.”

It was then when Aunt Genna barged into the drawing-room again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Brienne, if only there was a way to get access to the sources that are available only to Lannisters...


	5. Good night, sweet girl - J/A/B Modern AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, just a small thing with Jaime/Addam/Brienne. Fair warning: there is no actual smut, just talk about fucking. I don't know how to write smut, sorry!

Good night, sweet girl

It started with Addam picking Brienne up from that bar. Except that wasn't strictly true, was it, thought Brienne afterwards. _It_ had started way before that, with Brienne and Jaime ending up in his hotel room fucking. And that had happened again and again with Jaime. Not often though, and never planned. With him living in King's Landing and Brienne being in Storm's End it really couldn't happen too often, but every time Jaime came over to Stormland's office Brienne fought with him about some work-related shit and when the day finished Brienne found herself drunk-fucking her arch-nemesis in his hotel room. Or hate-fucking, that word was good too.

But truly _it_ started when Addam picked Brienne up from that bar. They had good fun in his hotel room for a couple of hours and Brienne picked up her underwear from the floor while Addam smirked at the bed. She left him with a kiss and no plans to see him again. Except she saw him next week when she was just walking to Jaime's hotel room with Jaime's hand at her arse when Addam appeared in the hotel hallway.

It had been kind of awkward to find out that Addam was Jaime's best friend, and all three of them had stared at each other across the coffee table in the sitting area of Jaime's room until it was Jaime who had said, _fuck it, let's do this, all three of us._ And then the boys -- _her boys--_ both had looked at her and the possibilities hand run through Brienne's mind like one hot dirty movie. So that's how _it_ had started.

It went on quite nicely for a while. _Her boys_ came over to Stormlands, once or twice a month, they locked themselves to a nice hotel room and fucked. “This really is only good hotel in this damn city,” commented Addam. Jaime acquired a gold loyalty card with the chain.

It had been fun. Most surprising thing that came out of _it_ was that Jaime stopped being an asshole at work. He was still annoying as hell and enjoyed too much of riling Brienne up, but he stopped being mean.

Addam, on the other hand, showed a different part of himself in the bedroom. When they were not fucking, Addam was jovial, flirty and pleasant. In the bedroom he was rough, and Brienne found out that _she liked it_. And when Addam was rough, Jaime was soft. He liked to kiss and pet and cuddle. And between these two men, Brienne had most fun than ever.

Everything went to shit quite suddenly. First thing that happened was that one particular Sunday, when they all were leaving the hotel there were no taxis. The weather was terrible, there were torrents of rain and Brienne let her boys to take the only taxi they were able to haul so she had to walk to the bus stop. By the time she got home, she was soaked through, tired and hungry. When she got through her door her phone rang. It was Jaime.

“Hey, Brienne... I normally wouldn't ask this, but do you think I could come over to your place and stay overnight? My flight was cancelled and all the hotels are full...”

She frowned.

“Is Addam coming too?” She had kept her boys away from her home until now.

“No, Addam's flight was last to take off. Look, it's totally fine if you'd rather not have me there, I'll just go and camp out at the office then.”

“It's fine, Jaime” she sighed. “You can come over. I'll text you the address.”

“Thanks, Brienne. I promise to stay out of your hair.”

She was frowning at her fridge when her doorbell rang. Jaime looked tired and rumpled, and he kissed her gently to her scarred cheek.

He was surprisingly considerate all evening. He asked first what Brienne had planned, and when she told him she just wanted to eat and take a bath he ushered her to the bathroom, ruffled through her fridge and fixed them omelettes while she soaked. When they finished cleaning out the kitchen Jaime eyed the sofa, but Brienne rolled her eyes and told him he can sleep in her bed.

“No sex though, I'm knackered.”

That had been the mistake. Titanic level catastrophe that ruined all. Not the _not having sex_ part, but sleeping in the same bed. It was way too nice. She had slept with him many times before, but never _wearing clothes_.

Not that they were wearing much, she slept in panties and a tank top and he was wearing his briefs and a t-shirt. But when Jaime pulled her to his arms it felt nice and domestic. And then Jaime peppered little kisses to her shoulder where little bruises had started to form, and murmured “Good night, sweet girl” like he had done dozens of times before but then Addam had been there and now he wasn't and they were in her own bed and suddenly it felt all too real to Brienne. That's when it went shit, she knew afterwards. She only needed one night with him and she caught _feelings_.


	6. Castaways au (desert island au, Hyle POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deserted island AU where Hyle ends up on tropical island with Jaime, Brienne and Podrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Talented @knifeears drew animal crossing AU](https://knifeears.tumblr.com/post/190963997489/ready-for-a-vacation-bonus) and I had to write a deserted Island AU to go with it.
> 
> As my laptop screen died I wrote this mostly on my phone which was a major PITA, so forgive me for all mistakes etc.

Part I

Their trip to Summer Isles wasn’t at all what Hyle had expected. First, Jaime Lannister had appeared at the airport looking like a smug cat, wearing sunglasses and ridiculous shirt like they were going to holiday instead of a three-week-long work trip. And then Brienne had appeared on the breakfast in a tank top, linen trousers and a straw hat like she wasn't uptight, buttoned-up spinster she was, but this long-legged blond island goddess.

Nothing went like Hyle had planned. He had it all thought out. They would work late, Hyle could send Podrick away and then he could talk Brienne into having a drink with him. Get her slowly relaxed, plied with a drink. He could weasel himself into her affections, of course he could, if given time and enough alcohol. But Brienne was already relaxed. She was far more relaxed than Hyle had ever seen her. Maybe it was because their project went well, and they didn't have to work overtime at all. Davos Seaworth was happy with everything they delivered and instead of working overtime they could leave early every day. And so they did. As soon as the clock hit 3 pm Lannister ushered them all out from the conference rooms and ordered everyone to meet at the pool. Hyle didn't like this at all. Well, drinking fancy cocktails with umbrellas instead of filling out Change Management documents was nice, he just didn't want to watch Brienne laughing with Pod and Lannister while doing it.

Part II

Hyle hadn't wanted to go sailing but he hadn’t wanted to be left behind either. In hindsight he should have just stayed at the hotel pool with a fancy drink in hand, ogling sunbathers, but that didn’t happen, because when Lannister had announced "tomorrow we'll go sailing" and Brienne had looked delighted Hyle knew he had to go too. Lannister and Brienne had started to look way too cosy together in these last weeks of their Summer Isle project, and that wasn't what Hyle had planned at all. “How come Brienne even likes sailing,” he had grumbled to Podrick who had just looked at him oddly, shrugged and continued to hauling coolers full of beer and snacks to the harbour.

So that’s how four of them had ended up on a desert island together. First they had cruised around (or whatever hell you called moving around on a sailboat) watching tiny islands. Lannister and Brienne were fiddling with sails and ropes like they had grown up doing it, which was probably true about Lannister but surprising about Brienne. "You do know she grew up at the island, do you?" Podrick had commented to that, cheeky little mouse he was. Of course, Hyle knew about Tarth, and the shipping company that Brienne's father owned, he just thought it involved those huge cruise ships with sun decks carrying norovirus and lots of YiTi tourists who then flocked the streets of Flea Bottom in huge crowds, and not the kind of vessels you have to use ropes and bedlinens to operate. Hyle opened another can of beer and started to explain Podrick the difference of port and starboard so the poor lad wouldn't feel left out on the boat.

So being distracted with that and the beer Hyle hadn't noticed the big dark clouds rushing towards them, and Lannister and Brienne hadn’t noticed them either, given how both of them were staring at each other every time they thought the other one wasn't looking, but Pod had noticed the clouds and yelled, and then there had been more yelling, Lannister and Brienne trying to do something with the sails, and then the Lady Stoneheart The Storm had hit. Of course at that moment Hyle hadn't known the storm was called Lady Stoneheart, at that moment it was just huge amount of wind and rainwater hitting his face and him trying to hold on something because the boat was rocking like it was a beer can in a drain. Lannister was shoving a life vest to him, and then he heard Brienne yelling "Mayday Mayday" and some numbers to ships radio and little Podrick squeaking next to Hyle and hanging on to the rail. And then the huge wave hit the sailboat and suddenly Hyle was overboard in the water, and all he heard was the storm, and sea roaring.

When Hyle woke up he was laying on the sand. There was sand in his mouth, in his nose and ears and in his underpants. There was no sand in his actual pants, because apparently those were lost at the sea. He was promptly informed about them being on a desert island by Podrick, who found Hyle still crawling on the shore. Podrick was equally pantsless, but at least he was wearing swimming trunks instead of underpants with dancing pineapples on them. Behind Podrick, running towards them, appeared Lannister, who had managed to retain both his linen trousers and his white shirt and still looked ruggedly good regardless of being shipwrecked, unlike Hyle who felt like a wet dog.

"Brienne!" Lannister shouted at Hyle. "Where's Brienne?" _How would I know_ , thought Hyle crossly, and tried to stand up from the sand. Brienne, miraculously chose that moment to appear from the still roaring sea. "I'm here," she shouted and rose from the waves like some strange sea goddess, all pink, tall and strong, pulling something behind her. That something was a case full of emergency supplies. A large bottle of water, a cigarette lighter, packet of water purification tablets and big red Vale army knife. "You stupid brave girl," shouted Lannister at Brienne while Podrick cried a little. _ I wish I was still at the hotel_, thought Hyle and faceplanted back to sand.

Thanks to Brienne's Vale army knife the week they spent at the desert island wasn't too terrible. It was awful of course, but there was at least food and drink. There were flocks of chicken-like birds running around the island who were very tasty after they were plucked and roasted, and there was a little stream of water running down from the hilltop and there were lots and lots of coconuts to eat. Ships sail washed ashore, and they managed to build a rudimentary tent out of it to sleep under. Altogether Hyle had to admit that it was fucking awful experience. Especially when Lannister’s expensive sunglasses washed ashore, and he promptly put them on Brienne. Hyle didn’t find anything useful, just a big old bell which he left onshore while Podrick picked up a nice collection of seashells.

The worst part besides the sand, and the sea and the lack of beer was the realisation that the ship where Hyle was the captain of the Tarth Cruisers had sailed and Hyle had been left onshore to cry. Jaime Lannister had ridden to town on his white destrier and stolen Hyle's tall and ugly heiress. The moment when Hyle had realised his failure was when he was plucking almost-chicken by the sea and Lannister had dropped down from a palm tree wearing nothing else except Brienne's denim shorts and glorious golden tan. When Hyle lifted his eyes from Lannister’s biceps, he saw Brienne spearfishing in the sea wearing Lannister’s clothes. They had been on the island only a day and Lannister was already fucking Brienne. _Unbelievable_.

So yes, Hyle had to give up his dream of seducing Tarth shipping heiress to himself. You really can't beat the rich pretty boy in that kind of a game, he thought bitterly. Whatever Hyle said, Brienne interpreted it the wrong way and whatever Lannister said made her react like the man had given her the moon. "Gods, wench," Lannister had said one night with a frown, "You look terrible. You're as red as my car.” They had sat by the fire and there were stars shooting across the sky. _Who cares what she looks like_ , had thought Hyle. Her father owns a cruise ship company. Hyle had thought a lot about ships lately. I should reassure her, he decided, to contradict Lannister. "All women look same in the dark," Hyle had said, very wisely, but then Lannister had shouted at him and Podrick had thrown an almost-chicken-bone at him. So yeah, Hyle could never say anything right when Lannister was there to ruin his vibe with shipping heiress. Not even when the heiress was a tall ugly chick who burned in the sun like a roast pig.

When their days on the island progressed further Hyle started to think about pigs more and more. "I hate chickens, " he one day complained to Podrick who was building a fire next to him while he again plucked some almost-chickens. "Why couldn’t this be the island with wild pigs?" Hyle speared the tiny dead birds to a stick and gave them to Podrick to be roasted. "I miss ham," Hyle said to no one particular and fell back to the sand to stare at the sky. He missed other things too, and other people.

"Jayne once poured a full kettle of soup on me," he reminisced to Podrick who was listening to him attentively while staring at the sea. "It was pea soup with big blobs on ham and carrots. It was a good soup." Jayne's father had owned a butcher’s shop, and Jayne had always fried bacon for breakfast to Hyle. He missed bacon, and ham and turnips. He even missed baby Harriet who had big brown eyes and snot running down her tiny face. Hyle blamed Lannister for all this misery. For him being in so desperate situation that even a flat above butchers shop started to look good. Lannister, who had insisted on going sailing, who had capsized the boat, stolen Brienne from Hyle and who was all along selfish bastard and also smug about it.

"Sail!" shouted Podrick then suddenly and started to wave his arms about. Hyle stood up and looked at the sea, and yes there was a white sail in horizon. There was lots of more shouting, and Lannister and Brienne came running from wherever they had been hiding and Brienne threw a pile of leaves to the fire to create a pillar of smoke. And just like that, they were saved again.

Later, when they all were sitting on the deck of Davos Seaworth’s sailboat and munching sandwiches Davos asked them all what was it that they had missed on the island.

"Beer!" shouted Hyle of course. Little Podrick asked for chocolate which was also a good choice. "What is it that you want, lad?" asked the scraggy sailor from Lannister who looked at Brienne. "You first."

Brienne of course being too good to her own good wanted to call her father. Lannister strangely wanted to have a bottle of sunscreen. Davos, bless him, dived into the bowels of his sailboat and came back with beers to everyone, handed a pile of chocolate bars to Podrick, a satellite phone to Brienne and bottle of Summer Isles Tropic sunscreen SP75 to Lannister.

 _Maybe I still have a chance with Brienne_ , thought Hyle while stuffing a ham sandwich to his mouth and gulping down his hard-earned beer while his Addams apple bobbed up and down. Those rich men, they lose the interest of homely girls at some point, no matter how many cruisers and ferry boats their dads owned. When he lifted his eyes, he saw Lannister slapping sunscreen to Brienne's face. "Stop squirming, wench," Lannister chided the girl gently like she was some pretty maiden and not a big beast of a woman who was strong as a hippo.

“You’re red as Lannisters during Elections,” purred Jaime and rubbed sunscreen on Brienne’s thighs that looked like big white tree trunks. “All this week I've wanted nothing more than to put some sunscreen on your red face.”

“Well fuck,” thought Hyle and picked up another ham sandwich. Maybe butcher’s daughter wasn’t too bad option either, when the shipping heiress was already taken. He looked Podrick, who clutched a big bag of seashells and the stupid bell he had found onshore. Maybe Jayne will bake me some turnips, he thought and watched the sea sparkle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn’t obvious Jaime swapped his clothes with Brienne because he had long pants and long-sleeved shirt and he didn’t want her to burn her skin in the sun. The second time they swapped pants was because they were shagging and when Podric spotted the sail Brienne just grabbed the first pair of pants she got her hands on.


	7. His only light in the darkness (Poldark au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something quite gothic. There are mines, and meadows and flowery prose. Smells like Poldark au. Oh fuck it is Poldark au.

** His only light in the darkness **

Jaime comes back from the war wearing a handsome scar on his face and an ugly scar on his mangled right hand. He sits in the post carriage with his eyes closed listening women gossiping and it’s there where he learns about his father's death and his sister's marriage to Robert fucking Baratheon. 

The house on the Rock is at least unchanged. Casterly, his heart sings when it comes to his view. It’s as ancient as the hills and meadows surrounding it. He finds his brother in the library, drunk out of his mind. “Jaime,” Tyrion slurs. “You’re back.”

He is back to Casterly Rock and back at his fields and back in the old mine working hard regardless of his mangled hand and his broken heart.

Cercei, his sister, sends for him from time to time, and he goes to her like a loyal dog, and when she slaps him he kisses her hand and pretends not to notice how his mangled hand disgusts her.

He goes back home to lick his wounds and works more and harder. Nothing matters more than Casterly Rock, the mine and his brother. “What do you wish to do,” he asks Tyrion, and when the boy sobers up and tells Jaime about Citadel he finds the money for his brother's education.

The girl, he finds her in the town. Dressed in boys garb, fists clenched and the shirt torn, she stands against the bullies, her blue eyes shining above the bruises and her split lip. “I’m Brienne,” she mumbles over a bowl of soup he feds her in the tavern and Jaime drowns in the blue waters of her eyes.

He takes her to Casterly Rock with him. The orphaned girl from Tarth, ugly and penniless heiress to Tarth marble mines. Why has he picked up this stray, he doesn’t know but the girl looks at him with a fierce scowl. “I won’t be your whore,” she announces and before Jaime can laugh at her ridiculous words — like he would want that tall and ugly creature — she continues with: “But I can work hard like any man.”

He gives her his own linen shirt and woollen breeches to wear, gives her a scythe to work with at the fields because there is so much work to do and she is a strong and hard worker. He gives her a small room, crammed with rickety bed and little else but the space is warm and Brienne looks happy and content.

Later he gives her a paper and a quill to write his letters for him and she does it with beautiful round hand and Jaime remembers again that she is a lords daughter, not a peasant child from the gutters.

“You know she’s not a child?” asks Tyrion from him while they watch Brienne hunched over his pile of accounting books and trade letters, counting wages of the workers and supplies bought from the town. “I know she is not a child, Tyrion. She’s taller than me,” he tries to deflect, but ends escaping his brothers sharp eyes to the moors.

“I know, Ser!” argues Brienne with Jaime when he tries to teach her about the intricacies of managing a mine and Jaime remembers that the girl owns a discarded marble mines on Tarth. The green island is just barely visible from the cliffs and sometimes he finds her standing on the beach staring at it. Next time Jaime goes to his mine Brienne follows and watches, and Jaime learns that if he is quiet enough she asks questions about the tunnels and nods at his answers. Soon enough she is far too knowledgeable to be sent to the fields or tend the farm so Brienne works with the books, writes his letters and runs the farm instead.

She finds a boy, Podrick, from the gutters like he found her and sends him to the fields with a scythe and thick slices of bread and cheese tied to a checkered cloth. She works hard and sings little songs quietly with a beautiful voice, and Jaime lets her voice to grow roots in his soul.

And can you really blame Jaime when he finally kisses her, even when he knows that he shouldn’t?

She hasn’t worn breeches for years now, but practical woollen skirts and coats, always neat and careful of her appearance. Never fashionable, but always clean and buttoned up and prim. He pulls open the buttons on her blue riding coat, pushes his hand inside her shirt and kisses her, and kisses her, and kisses her. Her eyes are still the prettiest he’s ever seen and her sighs are honey to his broken soul but there’s a letter in his pocket from his sister and it burns his skin and his heart. He can’t lie to her, not to her, not to his Brienne.

“I’m my sisters creature,” he tries to tell her. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs and pushes him away from her and stalks back to the pretty horse he gifted her. “You are an honourable man, Jaime Lannister. You can be a good man if you want to be.”

The meadows around him smell like wildflowers and the sea behind him sings songs to him. He pulls the letter from his pocket, rips it and lets the wind carry it away.  


She is only light in his darkness and he follows her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I tried to write Jane Austen AU but it came out as Poldark au. WTH Malla, try better next time.
> 
> Kind of sugar daddy vibes in this but that’s Poldark for you.


	8. K7 from Storm's End to Winterfell (modern au, they meet at the train)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Tumblr:  
> #23-Meeting on a Train Ride AU
> 
> Brienne takes a train from Storm's End to Winterfell to her new book launch. Unfortunately there is a rude man on the train. Even worse, he is reading her book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [this amazing map](https://blog.tyznik.com/post/93020426791/i-made-a-thing-that-thing-is-a-transit-map-of) of train network in Westeros to plot out her travel, but added a straight line from Storm's End to Winterfell, just to make Brienne's life easier.
> 
> And the prompt said they should meet at the train, but they actually meet at shuttle bus from Storm's End's ferry terminal.

**K7 from Storm's End to Winterfell**

Brienne already noticed the man on the shuttle bus stop. It's kind of impossible not to notice someone who runs over your boots with his expensive aluminium luggage. The man was rude too besides being oblivious, as he just smirked at Brienne and threw careless “Sorry, didn't see you there, mate” to Brienne's annoyed cough. And dear Maiden, he was pretty too. He had beautiful green eyes and sharp jaw. He should be on the cover of the magazine, not boarding shuttle bus in the snowstorm. She felt even more annoyed and boarded the bus after him. 

She might have not forgiven him for being a rude asshole who mistook her for a man if the annoying stranger wouldn't have dug out a book from his backpack and spent the whole ten-minute ride to the train station reading it. Because the book on his hands was her book, her first published novel. It actually felt kind of auspicious to see someone reading the first book of the series when she was travelling to Winterfell to launch the last book of the same series. 

It wasn't the first time she saw someone reading her book in public. It had sold over a million copies and the series was incredibly popular, but the way this stranger read it was fascinating. He stood in the crowded bus, completely ignoring his surroundings and grinned at the book.And from time to time, he also let out a little puffs of laughter. Brienne was desperate to see what part of the story amused him so, but the handsome stranger kept the book just in such a way that she wasn't able to see. Brienne was contemplating giving him an advanced copy of her new book, as she had a couple of extras in her backpack, but the bus came to the station with an abrupt stop. The man stuffed the book somewhere, picked up his expensive trolley and swiftly stalked off the bus without paying any attention whose toes he crashed in his hurry to leave. Brienne closed her backpack again and gathered her own belongings. Besides, giving a random stranger her book would be weird, wouldn't it? Even if the said stranger was reading the first of the series. Brienne quickly let go of her thoughts about the rude man and walked towards the platforms to board her train to Winterfell.

She wouldn't have thought more of this non-encounter in the shuttle bus but when she found her assigned seat on the train, the same handsome stranger was already setting down his things to the seat across hers. 

“Oh gods,” thought Brienne immediately. “I hope he doesn't recognize me.” It was somewhat unlikely as she mostly stayed away from the public, but she did write the books under her name and there had been some articles published in trashy newspapers which disregarded her wish to stay anonymous. They always used the same horrid picture of her in the University sports team uniform from the time when she still participated in the tourneys and they always referred her as “The giantess behind the Oathkeeper series.” She had been recognised a few times before, always in Storm's End, and people always had to point out how tall she was, and how she hadn't looked _at all_ like they had imagined her to look like.

Luckily the man didn't seem to recognise her. After short nods to each other they both stowed away their respective luggage to the rack above them, both hung up their coats (hers a thick bulky parka, his dark expensive-looking pea coat), she took off her hat and shook away the snowflakes rapidly melting in the warmth of the train and they both sat down to their respective seats. He took the window seat and she sat down across him to the isle seat hoping that the empty seats next to them would remain empty, as she wouldn't want to sit with knees hitting someone else the whole way to Winterfell.

The rude man kept being rude. He quickly spread out his belongings to the little table in front of him and to empty seat. Brienne, who always tried to make herself as small as possible found that incredibly rude. What if someone else wants to use the table, she thought even though she never used the table on the train. But this man spread water bottles, scarves, electronics, books and food around him and stretched out his legs all the way to the seat in front of him like he owned all the space and the train that carried it.

Brienne took out the things she needed; her phone with the ticket app opened, and her notebook and pencil. It would be a long ride to Winterfell, and she planned to use it for plotting out her fifth novel but instead of writing, she found herself clutching her things in her lap and watching the man across her smiling at her book again. He had a really nice smile, his eyes crinkled little bit and he bit his bottom lip with his perfect white teeth. The book he was holding was clearly well-read, the paper cover torn in places and corners tattered, which was slightly odd. He didn't look like a person who buys second-hand books, so maybe he had borrowed it from a friend. The man let out a little puff of amusement again. Brienne saw now that he was in the middle of the book, so that would be somewhere around where the tourneys would happen.

Brienne remembered how fun that part had been to write, the words had just poured out of her and how she had to stop from time to time to laugh at her own writings. Maybe I _should_ give him the advance copy, she thought again. But then he would recognise her, and that would be awkward, so Brienne forced herself to think about the upcoming book launch she was travelling to. She wasn't looking forward to the party or the book signing but Catelyn, her publisher insisted that she needs to attend this time. Before he disembarks, she decided. I'll give him the advanced copy when he stands up to leave the train, so it won't be embarrassing. Hopefully, that would be in King's Landing, as that was only an hour away.

When the train jerked forward and left the station, the man looked up, _smirked_ at Brienne, put away the book and picked up his phone. Oh no, thought Brienne and looked away quickly. Doesn't he know how rude it is to talk on the phone on the train? And it was kind of disappointing to realise that the person reading her book was such a jerk who talks on the train. Hopefully, he would disembark soon.

“Hey Tyrion,” the man said to the phone. “I'm on the train now. Did you manage to get the invite?”

Brienne couldn't hear the other person on the phone, which was incredibly annoying. The answer the man got was apparently good because he exclaimed “Sweet!” with a blooming smile and did a little fist bump up to the air. Brienne noticed that his right hand had two fingers missing and was crisscrossed with white scars elsewhere. The man noticed her watching him again and _winked_ at her. Brienne felt her cheeks reddening with embarrassment, turned away again and tried not to listen.

“I can't wait to meet her,” the annoying stranger continued talking to his phone. “You know I've been a fan of her for years.” The other person, Tyrion, talked again.

“No, I'm going straight to Winterfell,” continued the stranger. Brienne groaned inwardly. That means that she would have to sit across him more than six hours straight. Luckily the man hadn't recognised her.

“I have it with me,” the stranger continued on the phone. “It's the one you gave me in the hospital.” The man put his scarred hand on top her book. “It literally saved my life. I hope she signs it.” Brienne wondered what it was that he wanted to be signed. She leaned down to unzip her backpack and started to dig through it to find her headset. She didn't want to hear about strangers hospital visits or events where his life was saved, but the headset was stuck behind something. She pulled it with annoyance.

Tyrion was speaking again. The rude man huffed with amusement.

"Of course I'm not going to ask her phone number. I don't even know what she looks like. Besides, she is probably married to some tall giant from her island."

Brienne felt her heart jump. She looked up from her backpack to the stranger, who was now staring at her with a frown. She pulled her headset again but managed to tip over her backpack in the process and spill it's contents to the floor. She could only watch with horror when two of her advanced copies of her new book tumbled to the feet of the rude and handsome stranger. "I have to go, Tyrion" the man said to the phone and before Brienne could stop it he picked up the books and stared at the back cover with her photo on it. 

"You are much taller than I thought," the man said to her with green eyes wide open and all Brienne could do was to groan inwardly again.


	9. Library au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a new patron in the library where Brienne works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for Teaandbanjo for prompting! this was super fun.
> 
> 25\. librarian/avid reader au. For Jaime and Brienne, of course!

Brienne heard about the Hot Asshole as soon as she returned to work from her annual winter holiday. Apparently in the week that she was skiing in Vale, the library had gained a new patron. Who was very hot. And apparently extremely unpleasant.

“He made Sansa cry,” explained Sam to Brienne. Making Sansa cry wasn't very hard thing to do, knew Brienne as she herself had once made Sansa cry by telling her the plot of Bambi, but the Hot Asshole had made Sansa cry when Sansa had registered him as a patron.

It wasn't hard to recognize who the Hot Asshole was because he was the hottest person Brienne had ever seen. She saw him returning books to the self-service machine that very same morning. He was very tall and very blond and very pretty. He had this sort of dishevelled look that only beautiful people could pull off, bit unshaven and scruffy, but an ethereal sort of way. He was throwing the books to conveyer belt carelessly with one hand like they were frisbees instead of books. _What an asshole_ , thought Brienne. She hated when patrons mistreated the books.

“He comes in every morning,” explained Sansa with a sniff. “He checks out a pile of books, and comes back the next morning to return them and checks out new pile.”

The Hot Asshole had finished returning his books and swung his backpack over his shoulder without zipping it back together. He was graceful like a cat, but there was something odd in his posture. Maybe the way he held his shoulders, Brienne observed. He sauntered out of the main hall and disappeared towards the contemporary fiction, hands stuffed deeply to his jacket pockets and the backpack hanging off his shoulder.

Brienne tumbled upon the Hot Asshole only half an hour later right next to the historical fiction. She literally stumbled to something on the floor when she was shelving books, fell over and pulled someone to the floor with her. That someone was the Hot Asshole, who let out a great oomph when Brienne fell on top of him. The Hot Asshole started immediately to curse, while Brienne tried to unravel that great tangle of limbs, books and backpack straps that they had become.

“Watch where you going you great big oaf,” the Hot Asshole barked and jumped up to his feet without any effort. It took a little longer for Brienne to get up, as the strap of his stupid backpack was still around her ankle.

She managed to free her self and looked up to the man. He was even hotter from close by. He stood there, hands in his pockets while Brienne was on her knees, picking up the books that had scattered to the floor when they fell over. 

“Do you have a condition or something?” Unbelievable, thought Brienne and looked up to him, standing there and not helping. He really is a total dickhead. 

“Never mind actually,” the Hot Asshole smirked now when Brienne was looking up to him. “I quite like you where you are right now. Must be a familiar position for you.”

If he doesn't shut up soon, I might punch him, Brienne realised. She picked up the last book -- The Oathkeeper -- put it on the top of the pile she had gathered to her arm and stood up.

Luckily the Hot Asshole did shut up when Brienne straightened herself to her full length. She took her time standing up, going up, up and up until she could finally look down at him. It was a neat trick she had learned when she was quite young. Sometimes it was useful to be the tallest person in the room, and not only to reach objects from the high shelves. It worked like a charm to the Hot Asshole too, because he shut his pretty mouth with a snap.

“I'm terribly sorry,” Brienne said as calmly as she could. “Didn't see your bag there at all.” His Addams apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed audibly.

“I think these are yours,” Brienne picked up top three books from her pile and offered them to the man. He didn't react but just stared at them.

“Sorry, do you want me to check these out for you? Or weren't these your books?” 

“It's fine,” the man snapped, finally removed his hands out of his pockets and pulled the pile away from Brienne with a huff. He then picked up his still-open backpack and stalked off towards the biographies.

What an asshole, thought Brienne and started to shelve the books again.


	10. Library AU, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne the Librarian learns more about the Hot Asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for past traumatic events (contemporary war crimes) and panic attack.
> 
> This went dark suddenly.

Library part 2

It’s a quiet Tuesday afternoon when Brienne finds a severed hand at the isle between ethnography and folklore. She drops Giantsbane's “Bear and the Maiden Fair” straight to her toes and promptly falls on her arse. “Stranger fuck me sideways!” she yelps, before realising that there is no blood, and the severed hand is in fact, fake one. And actually, it’s a prosthesis, simple flesh coloured one with a sleeve and not even a fake severed hand.

It’s not the first time she has found body parts in the library, as she once found Walter Fray's dentures in the women’s restroom and prosthetic hand is actually not that bad compared to _that_ incident. Brienne picks herself and the Giantsbane up and walks to the hand.

Further on, behind the corner, she sees a familiar backpack and the Hot Asshole sitting next to it on the floor. Brienne recognises him from his mop of golden hair and the ratty crimson and gold hoodie he is wearing. The Hot Asshole, or rather Jaime Lannister as Brienne knows his name now, is crouching on his heels, his hands — oh, his **one** hand and **one residual limb** — on top his head and is rocking back and forth.

"Hey," she approaches him carefully. "Is everything alright?" she asks and winces at herself. Jaime Lannister is clearly _not_ alright.

She crouches down next to him, and asks again. "What happened?" but the man doesn’t react to her.

A gang of unruly schoolchildren run across the aisle next to them and Jaime Lannister jumps a little when one of children screeches.

"Hey," she tries again to talk to him. Brienne is very wary, but she stretches her hand and very gently puts it to his shoulder. “Jaime,” she tries to use his name. “Can I help you, Jaime?”

He looks up now but his eyes are oddly vacant. “You,” he chokes out. "You’re that tall one."

"It's Brienne, actually. And you are Jaime, right?" He nods and puts his head down again. "Jaime, it looks to me that you are unwell.” Jaime nods again. “Will you let me help you?”

She pauses and waits, realises her hand is still at his shoulder and retrieves it carefully. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Jaime runs his hand through his messy hair. “I think I’m having a panic attack,” he finally says.

“Alright,” Brienne tries to sound calm. She quickly runs through her mind what should be done when someone is having a panic attack. She's had First Aid trainings, but she hasn't had to help anyone with panic attack before.

“Have you had one before?” she asks him. “Yes,” he responds. “Maybe. I think yes.”

Screeching children run past them again. “Alright, Jaime,” Brienne touches his shoulder again. “Let’s get you somewhere quieter first, ok?” She waits for him to nod first, then picks up his prosthetic hand from the floor and puts it to his bag. There is a neat pile of books and a battered phone on the ground next to him so she puts those to the bag too and zips it up.

"Do you think you can stand up and walk, Jaime?" He doesn’t respond, but he hauls himself up and looks at her again. He looks pale and vacant but follows her when she puts her hand to his back and starts to walk.

Brienne ends up taking him to a small conference room that patrons can book for meetings. It’s empty now, and Brienne guides him to sit down to the battered sofa. She puts his bag to his feet and sits next to him. He still looks vacant and is shaking a little.

“Do you have any medication you can take for it?” she asks but he shakes his head. “Would you like me to call someone to pick you up? Your family member or a friend?”

“No, no. Please don't do that.” He looks upset for that suggestion, so Brienne puts her hand to his shoulder again.

“Alright, I won't.” There's not much one can do when someone is having a panic attack, except to keep them safe, Brienne remembers.

“You can sit here as long as you need, ok?” he nods, puts his elbow to his knee and leans his face to his hand. His other limb, the arm without the hand, he hides it to hoodie pocket.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers.

“There's nothing to be sorry about. These things happen.”

“No, I mean, I'm sorry that I yelled at you.”

“Oh. That was weeks ago. And I did fall all over you.”

His seems to be calmer now. He even smirks a little. “Yes, you did that, didn't you.”

“Can I do something for you? Fetch some water perhaps?”

"No, please stay. This is good."

They sit like that for a moment and Brienne sends a quick text to Sam to inform him where she is.

“Can you maybe talk to me?” that sets Brienne back a little. "You have a very calm voice."

“I'm not much of a talker, really.” She furrows her brow and tries to think of something. Her eyes land on the book that she dropped on her toes.

“What if I'll read to you?” she suggests and opens the book.

The book is a collection of essays about bear-related folk tales and songs. Brienne winces a little but starts reading the first essay, and it's actually quite interesting. T.W. Giantsbane seems to be very enthusiastic on the subjects of bears, bear-baiting, bear-hunting and women who pretend to be a bear. Brienne is used to read books out loud, she does it every week in read-outs in the library, but her audience is usually much younger or older and subjects less academical. But Jaime, as Brienne can't really call him Hot Asshole any longer, seems to unwind a little. His breathing gets calmer.

She's halfway through a second essay when Giantsbane seems to be particularly enthusiastic about one ribald telling a story of a man courting a she-bear. That emits a small huff from Jaime.

"Wench? He calls the bear wench?"

"Perhaps it's a term of affection? How are you feeling now?” she looks at him and finds his eyes on her. He is looking better, not so green any more. He still looks like shit, though.

“Better. My head hurts though.” He is rubbing his stump with his hand absentmindedly.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

That apparently is a wrong thing to say because he looks like she had just hit him. In the next moment, there is a horrible sneer at his face. The sneer that the Hot Asshole is usually carrying.

Brienne hadn't meant to ask about his hand, but before she can tell him that, he lifts up his chin and asks “Maybe tell me what happened to your face first?”

Brienne puts her hand on top of it and feels her face going red. People always ask about Brienne's scar but here is no good answer really. If she says it was an accident, people ask what kind of an accident and then she has to tell them that it wasn't really an accident. Sometimes though she is too tired to lie. Like now.

“It happened in the war.” The sneer is still at his face and he laughs a horrible little laugh.

“That can't be true, can it? You're far too young to have been enlisted.”

She hadn't. She didn't have to. But Brienne doesn't want to talk about _that_.

She tries to de-escalate. “Look, I meant to ask what had happened when I found you from the floor like that. Not about your lost hand.” He huffs.

“Where is the damn thing, anyway?” It takes a moment to Brienne understand.

“You mean your prosthesis? It's in your bag. Your phone and books too.”

He starts pulling the zipper open on his backpack. It looks cumbersome task with one hand.

“I know you probably hear this a lot, but it will get easier with time.” That is the wrong thing to say apparently again.

“Met a lot of recent amputees, have you?” Brienne has seen her fair share, but she is not going to tell him about it. Her hands are shaking now and she feels sick in her stomach.

“Look,” she stands up and takes the Giantsbane with her, “you are welcome to stay in this room until you feel better. It's rarely used anyway. Just close the door behind you when you leave.”

He stares at her with his bottle-green eyes. Brienne feels her voice shaking. “If you need any more help from us...”

She sees the realisation to hit him, the way his eyes widen when he reads her name from her badge.

“You're from Tarth, aren't you?” Brienne closes her eyes for a moment and breathes deeply. “Yes.”

“Evenfall bombing. Is that where your face...”

She nods again. The first battle of the Fourth Great War. And the only one that happened on Westerosi ground. When Golden Company bombed Tarth to the ground.

“I was lucky,” she feels her mouth to twist. She can't look away from his residual limb now.

“That's what they call amputees at Tarth. Lucky.” She puts her hand to her cheek again. _Try not to cry_ , Brienne, she tells herself. _Try not to cry again._

“I'm extra lucky because I didn't lose any limbs.” She lost so much more.

She draws a breath and continues. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's not a competition where you win if you have suffered the most.”

She made a spectacle of herself again, and Jaime Lannister is staring at her like he has seen a ghost. 

"No," he shakes his head now. “You absolutely should have said that. They say that to me too. _Lucky_. To be alive, I think they mean.”

Brienne makes a move to leave again but he steps closer again and she stalls in the doorway.

“Look, shit," the man draws his hand through his hair. “Look, I'm sorry. For being an asshole I mean. Because I'm an asshole.”

Whatever she expected him to say it wasn't _that_. Brienne smiles a little and blinks away her tears. “I know.”

“You know what?”

“That you're an asshole. That's what we call you here, you know. The hot asshole.”

Maybe she shouldn't have said that either, but he smiles a little and opens his mouth to say something, but Brienne interrupts him.

“I know it must be hard on you, to have something like that happen to you. But you can't take this out on us. We just work here in the library. And all of us, we just want to help you.”

She steps out now, but turns back again. “Except the Goat.” Jaime laughs, but Brienne doesn't. 

“Seriously, stay away from the Goat.”

“Is he the one with...?” he gestures to his chin.

“Yes.”

She has only taken a few steps when he stops her again. 

“Brienne!” The way he rolls her name makes her shiver a little. “Yes,” she turns around. Jaime stands on the doorway, looking like a half god. The better half.

“Can I loan out that book your holding?”

“What? The Bear and the Maiden Fair?” She was hoping to loan it herself.

“Of course,” Brienne gives him the book and leaves.

Somehow she is not completely surprised when Jaime Lannister shows up at her Read-aloud to Seniors on Thursday.


	11. Library au part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get out of the library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: reference to past suicide (Cercei).
> 
> This has no real plot really.

Library au part 3

They sit in a cafe nearby the library and Brienne is trying to cut the biggest cinnamon roll she has ever seen in half so she can share it with Jaime.

“There is something I need to tell you,” he had said the day before after her read-aloud for seniors he attended again.

“He is going to ask you out,” Sansa had whispered to Brienne earlier that day.

“That's rather unlikely,” Brienne had whispered back. “He gave  _ you _ the flowers.” Those red tulips had sat on the staff room table all week and made Brienne oddly melancholy.

“Yes, but only as an apology. He's been staring  _ you _ for weeks now.” The Hot Asshole, as they called Jaime Lannister, was clearly trying to be less asshole to the staff after Brienne told him off a few weeks before. He was currently loitering nearby the information desk leaning against the shelf and looking like a model from a magazine spread, all but for the missing hand. He was reading a magazine about archaeology or pretending to read because he also kept stealing glances towards Sansa and Brienne.

“He is going to ask you out,” whispered Sansa again to Brienne, “and you are going to accept or next time I see your dad I will tell him that a hot guy asked you out and you refused.” Brienne had groaned and escaped but she knew that Sansa would go through with her threat.

So when Jaime had sought her out after her read-aloud and told her that he needs to tell her something, Brienne had agreed to have coffee with him after work the next day. Which they were doing right now. And Brienne was trying to divide a ridiculously large cinnamon roll with a spoon.

“I was there,” Jaime blurts suddenly and Brienne looks up from her surprisingly difficult task to see Jaime staring at her. “I was at Tarth when it happened,” he continues.

Oh, he is talking about  _ that, _ realises Brienne. 

“I'm a...” Jaime pauses and frowns. “No, I  _ was _ a helicopter pilot. I was there with the rescue when it happened. I flew front and back, transporting staff to Tarth and brought back the casualties.” He plays with his spoon again. Brienne doesn't really know how to react. People never want to talk about what happened at Tarth. It feels like everyone wants to pretend it never happened, except those who want to use what happened to further their own political agenda.

“I wasn't the only one, of course” Jaime continues. “There were others too. My friend Addam.”

“I remember the helicopters. I had never seen one up close before.” Brienne has managed to cut up the roll now and takes her time putting her portion to a napkin and setting the plate with his next to his coffee cup. It's odd to think that Jaime had been at Tarth, that he had been part of the rescue team, and maybe he even had flown the helicopter that had taken Gal or her mum.

“I don't remember how many trips I did, it went on for days.” Jaime is looking out of the window and rubbing idly his residual limb with his remaining hand. He's not wearing his prosthesis now, and Brienne hasn't seen him wearing it ever since she found it from the floor of the library.

“I didn't get to...” Brienne starts, closes her eyes for a bit, and opens them again. “I had to wait a really long time, with some others. Eventually, a ship came.” She had felt so guilty later, about wanting to get a ride with a helicopter, when those who did get a ride were much more injured than her.

“You don't need to tell me. Shit, I shouldn't have brought it up.” He rubs his stubble now with his hand.

“I don't know why I wanted to tell you this. I've been thinking about it for weeks now. About Tarth, and the other conflicts I've been at. I should probably burden my therapist instead of you.”

“It's fine. I rather talk about it than pretend it didn't happen. I think most people want to pretend it never happened.” She pushes the plate with his cinnamon roll towards him.

“Eat this, it's still warm.” They eat their rolls in silence and Brienne tries not to stare his throat when he swallows.

When they finish, Jaime wipes his fingers to a napkin and takes out the Giantsbane from his backpack.

“Look what I found,” he puts it in front of her and opens it where the bookmark is.

“The drawing here, I thought you might like it. Its the Blue Knight and the Goldenhand in a bear pit. You read that story about them last week.”

There is a picture of a woman fighting a bear in a pink dress, holding a stick and behind her is a man wearing a gold hand.

“She was from Tarth like you, wasn't she? The Blue Knight.”

“Yes,” Brienne smiles. She's seen the picture before, it's from a tapestry of their family home at Tarth. Suddenly, she feels overwhelmingly homesick, this intense longing for her father's house, for Tarth, its meadows and waterfalls and paths.

She looks across the table to this odd man who can be cruel and haughty, but also soft and vulnerable. Who had flown the helicopter above her school years ago and today wanted to show her a picture of a tapestry in her father's library. And who now is picking up bread crumbs from his plate with a finger he wetted in his mouth.

“Do you want to go hiking with me tomorrow?” Brienne asks him.

***

Jaime has never been hiking before. “Just wear something comfortable,” Brienne had said and added “and good boots. And bring a towel and swim trunks.” So Jaime had gone straight to the sports store, bought swim trunks, hiking boots and wool socks (genuine Tarth merino, said the label) and now is waiting on the street, with his backpack on the ground and tumbler full of coffee in hand.

He had spent two hours on last night to learn how to tie his boot laces with one hand, read everything he could about hiking from the weirnet and grabbed a few hours of sleep before sunrise. He is as prepared as he can be for hiking with Brienne Tarth.

Brienne arrives to pick him up in a shockingly small car. “Sam lent his car to me,” she explains when Jaime folds himself half to sit in the seat. The back seat is full of car seats, blankets, toys and other baby gear, and the car makes an odd noise every time Brienne shifts the gear. “Next time we can take mine,” he comments and watches Brienne blush travel down her face and neck. “But I guess I have to check if the battery is full, no one has driven it for months.” Bronn had brought it over from King's Landing when Jaime had moved in his apartment, but Jaime hasn't checked the car after that.

They drive across the suburbs and farmlands to increasingly smaller roads, until Brienne parks the car next to something that looks like a dilapidated barn. Jaime gathers his trusty backpack containing his swim trunks, towel, a book and bottle of water and follows Brienne across the road to the small footpath that takes them across the meadow. Brienne is wearing worn blue jeans, a knitted sweater and one of those backpacks that the Millenials are carrying that look like square boxes with a direwolf logo on them. Except hers is much worn than the kids on the streets carry.

Brienne guides them across the meadow, to the woods, and onward for leagues and Jaime is sure that they will get lost because she doesn't seem to use any map, paper or electronic at all until Brienne points out orange ribbons tied to the trees to mark the route. They see no other hikers at all, and Jaime supposes that the route is not well known. Surprisingly it's nice to be alone in the forest, even if it is slightly terrifying.

“Are there any bears, do you think?” Brienne looks at him with amusement. They have stopped for a moment before crossing a stream and are drinking water out of their bottles.

“I'm sure there are, but they will try to avoid us.”

“You'll have to protect me if we stumble upon one.” He lifts his fake hand up. He took it off and put it back on at least twice this morning before deciding to put it on again. Brienne's eyes stop for a fleeting moment to the ghastly thing before she shoos off a bug buzzing in front of her face.

“Alright, I promise to protect you from the bears. I'll grab a stick and you can hide behind me.”

“Like in that tapestry?”

Brienne laughs, “Yes, like in that tapestry.” She puts away her water bottle, pulls the backpack to her shoulders again and steps to the stepping stones across the stream. “Come on now, we are almost there.”

Their destination is apparently a small lake squeezed between two hills covered with the woods. The water is clear, and as soon as they arrive Brienne starts peeling off her clothes.

“Come on, let's swim,” she calls when she's reached to the last layer which is a sporty looking swimsuit. Her thighs are pale and thick like tree trunks and Jaime can't seem to pull his eyes from her when she runs to the water. It's only when she has dived under the water he moves and starts pulling off his clothes. There is no one else there so he just strips everything off and ruffles through his bag to find his swim trunks. When he hears a splash he turns to the lake, but he only sees Brienne diving to the water again.

_ Fuck it, _ he decides, ditches the bag on the ground, pulls off his fake hand and the cover underneath it and walks to the lake on the buff. She can look if she wants to, and Crone's cunt, he wishes that she wants to look.

The water is cold as fuck below the surface, but after the walk, it feels pleasant and Jaime takes his time trying out how it feels to swim without his hand. It feels off but is doable, so he catches up Brienne floating nearby.

“Sorry, I thought I remembered to tell you about the swim trunks.” She is pink on the face again.

“You did.” Jaime's PT has tried to get him to swim for months now, and now when he is actually in the water it feels so good that he is not sure any more why he was so much against it.

Brienne swims away, and he follows her. She is clearly very much home at the water, but she slows down and waits for him to catch up at the middle of the lake where they both float a bit together. Her mouth is underwater and her hair floats around her like seaweed, and she looks like a selkie or some water creature from a fairytale.

“I feel like I should tell you something.” Jaime blurts.

“Like what?”

“I don't know, like confess my darkest secrets or something.” He sticks his stump out of the water and recites “ _ Come, curse me or kiss me or call me a liar.” _ It gets a laugh from Brienne as he intended, and the sound of her laughter makes him ridiculously happy for some reason.

“What, like in that book with Blue Knight?” her eyes are crinkled at the corners.

“Have you killed a king, Jaime?”

“No.” He closes his eyes for a bit and thinks for all the horrid things he has done, in service and out of service for a moment before recalling the voice of his therapist in his head.

“ _ Focus on the positive, Jaime.” _ His therapist has the top half of fingers missing from his hand, and that is  _ not _ the same thing as missing a whole hand Jaime decided early on his therapy, but overall it has helped him great deal.  _ Positive _ , Jaime. Like that girl floating near him.

“You already know I'm an asshole.” He slyly looks sideways to Brienne. “A hot asshole.”

“And so full of yourself,” Brienne chuckles, splashes some water to his face and swims away.

There is no way that Jaime can catch her up with only one hand, but he makes an effort and manages to catch her foot to his hand before she pulls it away with a shriek of laughter. He lets her go before doing it again.

“Tell me how you lost your hand,” she asks when they are nearer to the shore and are floating again in the warm surface water. There are dozens of quips in his mind, that he usually uses to answer that question, but now he just says the truth. Three short sentences.

“It was a car crash. My sister was driving. She died.”

The fourth one is harder to say, but he does it anyway.

“She did it on purpose.”

He looks at her for reaction, for shock or disgust, but Brienne just swims closer to him, close enough that Jaime could count the freckles on her nose. Her eyes are blue like the sky above them. She doesn't say anything, and Jaime feels relieved. Instead, Brienne just puts her palm to Jaime's face. Then she pulls it away and dives under surface.

“Come on,” she calls when she emerges again closer to the shore. “I brought lunch,” and rises from the water.

They eat the sandwiches sitting on Jaime's towel and Jaime tries not to ogle her sculpted arms or her surprisingly delicate collar bones. Every inch of Brienne is covered in caramel-coloured little specs, like crystals of brown sugar. He wants to lick the dots, to see if they taste as sweet as they look, but falls down to the towel instead and looks the clouds passing by. His cock is straining inside his jeans so he lifts his knees up, and hopes that Brienne wouldn't notice how horny he is.

“This is my favourite place to hike,” she tells him and lays down to the towel. “Reminds me of home. Except there are lot more sheep at Tarth.” She has such a pleasant voice. It doesn't help his boner at all. Maybe he needs to go back to the icy lake to cool off again. He startles a little because Brienne has now taken his stump to her hand now.

“Why did you wear your prosthesis today? You clearly hate it, and it looks uncomfortable.”

The skin around his stump is red and irritated. It looks horrid and no one besides from doctors and nurses has touched his stump until now.

“My father says that I need to wear it so I won't upset others.”

Brienne scoffs. “My great aunt Sandy always said that lions don't concern themselves with the opinion of sheep.” Jaime turns to his side to look at her.

“Was your great aunt Sandy a Lannister? And I didn't realise that you have lions at Tarth.” She is still holding his stump, and Jaime feels the warmth where her hand is touching him.

“No, we just have sheep.” He closes his eyes and hopes she holds him a little longer, if only for a moment. The world is quiet around him, only the wind rustles the leaves in the trees and a bird is singing in the distance. He has never been good with silences.

“Hey, Hot Librarian,” he nudges her with his stump. “Would you read me something?”

Her laughter echos across the lake. Before Jaime can take out the book from his bag Brienne's lips are on his and she is kissing him and for a while everything is good in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Evenfall Hall is fine and no tapestries or Valyrian steel swords were damaged in the war. And now I really want to do the bear pit scene with Bayeux Tapestry style.


	12. Fake dating au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fake dating au! Musician Jaime takes aspiring young actress Brienne to their first fake date. All Millenials like clubs, right?

Fake dating au

They are supposed to be seen together at least on twelve separate occasions but Jaime can't really see how that will happen since the girl Catelyn Stark saddled him with has the sourest expression in the universe. Brienne was already scowling when he picked her up but as the evening progressed her face got more and more twisted. He couldn't understand why, as the club they were at was the trendiest in whole King's Landing. 

“Aren't you Millenials supposed to like these kinds of places?” Jaime asks her but the girl just stares back at him with her blue eyes wide open. She is not dressed for the club either. _Wear something sparkly_ , Jaime had texted her and expected her to turn up in something short and sexy, but the dress she is wearing is positively demure. It's navy blue but covered in delicate sheer fabric embroidered with suns, stars and moons. Little crystals shine like a night sky in the flashing lights of the club.

“I didn't realise you're into this kind of music” she deflects his question. She is not wrong on that, the music is truly horrible, some screeching kind of technopop. Jaime, who has a solid career in the music business behind him feels his brains leaking out of his ears, but damn it he is not going to admit that the club was a mistake to this dour woman.

“Look, can you at least pretend you are having a good time? No one will believe that we are dating if you look like you're just smelled something rotten.” She frowns even more to that. Jaime had spent last night watching some interviews she had done to promote her swords and shields series and she had come across totally sweet and adorable.

She must be a good actress to be able to pretend that kind of innocence while her true life persona was apparently this dour wench, he thinks.

But he needs the girl. Jaime needs to be seen out with someone who is not Cersei, someone who is opposite of cruel, petty and married to the Prime Minister. Brienne Tarth seemed to be a perfect candidate; young, fresh and adored by everyone who knows her. Why Brienne Tarth needed to be seen with an ageing rock star, Jaime could only guess, but if their date keeps going like this he'll get a tongue-lashing from the Stark woman tomorrow. And just after that thought, he spots the event photographer in the crowd.

“Shit,” he twists towards Brienne. “It's Peter Baelish.” They can't be seen like this by that sleazebag, Brienne scowling at Jaime. It looks like they have been fighting when they are supposed to look like they have been fucking on the way here. He grabs her arm and steps closer to her.

“You are supposed to be an actress, aren't you? Then fucking act, pretend that you like me. Make it look like this is real.”

“Are _you_ for real?” she retorts.

“Do it, he is almost here,” Jaime whispers through his teeth. “Fucking act.”

“I can't believe you make me do this,” she whispers back at him, turns away with her mouth in a thin line, and after a half a second she turns back at him.

She looks completely different suddenly. Her eyes are soft, her lips parted a little and there is a blush high on her cheekbones.

“Jaime,” she murmurs with a small smile and leans closer to him. Her sudden change shocks him so much that he can only stare at her.

“Jaime,” she says again and puts her hand on his shoulder, close to his neck. “I love it here. I love the clubs. I love you. This is the best date ever.” The lies are obvious but she looks and sounds more sincere than Cersei ever did when telling Jaime she loved him. Usually, it was when she wanted something from Jaime, something he was not willing to give up for his stepsister.

But this tall gangly girl here looks at Jaime with her soft blue eyes and suddenly Jaime feels like he could bring her the moon if she asked for it. Even if it's all fake. He hears camera going off nearby, but he is not able to look away from the freckles the girl has on her nose.

Brienne shifts closer again. He can smell her now. She smells like a meadow on a sunrise.

“Put your hands on me, you fucking idiot,” she whispers gently to his ear.

He has a presence of his mind not to react to her surprising words and after a small second, he puts his hands on her waist. She feels solid under his hands, hard muscle under that sparkly dress.

They stay like that for a moment, staring at each other. The photographer seems to be closer now. Brienne puts her hand to Jaime's face. Her touch is gentler than summers breeze. Jaime feels like his brain has turned itself off. There is no coherent thought left. She whispers to him again.

“If you try to kiss me I'll kick you so hard that you'll find that your balls have migrated up your ass." He gulps.

"Now say something to me.” He leans to her ear now.

“Next time I'll take you to the gym and you can kick me as much as you like,” he manages to croak. The image of her in leggings, holding a prop sword comes to his mind. He really liked _those_ videos.

She leans back from him and laughs. Her laugh is a gentle thing, like a stream on a spring. It feels so wrong.

“May I take some photos?” the photographer has finally found them. Jaime's brain is still frozen. Luckily Brienne has some sense and chats with the pap while he snaps the photos. Jaime just stares at Brienne. In the Rooktube videos, Brienne had laughed with her costars, and her laugh had been a big, boisterous honk that had filled the room. S _he sounds like a goose_ , he remembers thinking.

He wanted to hear _that_ laugh from Brienne today.

“You can let go of me now, idiot,” she tells him. The photographer has moved on, and real Brienne is back again. He doesn't know what to do with his hands now, so he rubs his stubble and tries to organise his brain again.

“Next time, you'll wear something sparkly,” she rolls her eyes and snorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Brienne's sparkly dress, art by @knifeears](https://tall-wolf-of-tarth.tumblr.com/post/620242216317779968/knifeears-first-star-of-the-night)


	13. Fake dating part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actress Brienne takes the musician to their second Fake Date. There is yoga.

Fake dating part II

“I thought we agreed that you'll wear something sparkly?” Brienne Tarth looks up and down at Jaime by the corner of the park where Catelyn Stark ordered him to appear. “Wear something comfortable. Sweats & running shoes.” the text from his PR consultant had read and Jaime had taken good care to choose a neat pair of designer sweats (that look like regular sweats, except that they cost 400 dragons), expensive trainers and his old Kingsguard hoodie cropped short to bare his midriff.

“I did,” he retorts back to Brienne and points at the rhinestones on his hoodie.

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes at him and heads towards the park. “Try to keep up, old man,” she tells him and picks up a good pace to jog.

They jog for a good half an hour and Jaime tries to keep up the conversation, but the wench is still too dour.

“How tall are you?” earns him “Taller than you clearly” as a response. “How much can you lift?” and “is it true you do all your stunts yourself?” earn only en eye roll.

“Do you know how to smile?” makes her stop and look at him. “Do you know how to shut up?” she asks instead.

“I'll shut up if you can reach that bridge before me.” Brienne sports forward without a word and it takes Jaime all he has to manage a very tight tie. They are both too breathless to squabble the rest of the lap, and when Brienne orders him to stay put and wait for her he is grateful for the break. She returns a few minutes later with yoga mats under her arm and throws him a water bottle.

“Come on, time to second part now,” she calls him before walking towards a grassy field where there is a large group of women doing yoga.

Jaime is no stranger to yoga. When Cersei imagined herself as a life coach-slash-influencer and harked overpriced loungewear, cosmetics and yoni balls on her blog she had forced Jaime to do some yoga videos with her, and unlike Cersei, Jaime kept up with it later.

Brienne seems to enjoy it too. She greets the instructor like she has met her before and they settle their mats on the edges of the crowd.

No one has recognized them yet, but Jaime knows that Catelyn who doesn't like to take chances has tipped off some paparazzi. He wonders briefly how Cersei will react seeing him doing yoga with Brienne in the park and the thought amuses him greatly.

Brienne seems to take yoga very seriously. She kicks off her sneakers and strips her socks off and places them neatly next to her mat. Her sun salutations are perfectly formed, and her plank is impressive. He seriously regrets that his mat is not behind hers as it makes it much harder to spy her downward facing dog but he does his best. Which is probably a bad idea because by the time they are in the Warrior sequence there is a Situation going on in Jaime's expensive designer sweat pants. The Situation gets so bad that Jaime lunges straight into a headstand to get some blood flowing down to his brain instead of his cock. He stays like that for 20 breaths until he hears Brienne stage-whisper to him. “What are you dicking around, Lannister?”

Brienne's voice surprises him and he falls backwards to the grass, luckily not hitting anyone else with his feet. Brienne and some other ladies rush to his rescue and Jaime spends the rest of the yoga class sitting on his ass and listing Kings and Queens of Westeros in his mind.

After the class, some young fans approach Brienne carefully. Brienne, who a moment ago was scowling at Jaime, smiles warmly to the girls. “We loved you as Rohanne,” they gush, and Brienne talks to them for a good many minutes. Rohanne, The Warrior Princess was an SBC fantasy series aimed to teens, but Jaime had binged it in one weekend and felt extremely guilty from the boners he got from seeing then-18-year-old Brienne running around in short leather skirts and bikinis.

He offers to take the photos for the girls and spots the moment when one of them recognises _him_.

“OMG, my mum has a t-shirt with your face on it,” she squees to Jaime. “But she only wears it when she cleans.” Jaime laughs at that. “I also wear my face when I clean,” he quips and that earns a small laugh from Brienne. _Win_ , he thinks smugly. The girls, of course, then ask for photos with both Jaime and Brienne which they generously agree as their aim has been to be spotted together anyway.

“Which guard were you? The Scary Guard?” the girl asks when the other one is checking the photos on her phone.

“No, Sandor was the Scary Guard. Jaime was the Posh Guard.” Brienne answers before Jaime can. They leave the girls to their phones and go back to pick up their mats and water bottles and walk towards the centre of the park where the ice cream stand is.

“So, wench, were you a fan? Was I your favourite? Did you hug a pillow with my face on it?” She goes delightfully red on her face. It's adorable.

“No I wasn't your fan,” she answers finally, but Jaime doesn't want to let go. “Don't tell me you were one of Renly's fans?”

Renly, the leader of the Kingsguard always had the most insane fans. Rainbow Guards, they called themselves.

“You know that he couldn't sing at all? He lip-synced every show.”

Brienne stops by the fountain and looks at him. “Yeah, I heard you telling that at a live concert.”

“You were there?” The infamous concert where something odd had happened to the computer which played Renly's voice track, leaving Renlys line “Look at me, I'm a King” jamming endlessly on the repeat while rest of the Kingsguard had watched horridly the scene unfold on the stage. If a person could die of second-hand embarrassment that would have been the moment half of the stadion would drop dead.

The scene had ended when Jaime picked up his microphone, told to the crowd that “The king of lip-sync, ladies and gentlemen,” and promptly left the stage and the band to build his solo career.

“I had to save six months to get to that concert,” Brienne frowns at him. There is something endearing to think about teenage Brienne saving six months to go to see the boy band Jaime used to sing. And that she saw the concert where it all ended.

He was 17 when the band dismantled and he was branded as Kingslayer ever since. He did get a good kickstart to his solo career from that incident. Unlike Renly, everyone else on the group knew how to sing and had no problems getting work but everyone always remembered Jaime calling Renly the King of the Lip-Sync and unfortunately, Renly's career was dead on the spot.

“I'm sorry,” he tells to Brienne. “How can I make it up to you? Do you want me to introduce him to you? He doesn't talk to me, but I know his brother.”

“No, I've met him,” she tells and winces. Renly always was a dick to his fans, Jaime remembers. No wonder that Brienne doesn't want to see him. 

“How about if I buy you an ice cream then? I think Catelyn's pap hasn't found us yet.”

“Sure,” she nods and they walk towards the stand.

Brienne finally spots the paparazzi when they are finished eating their ice creams. The man is far enough but he clearly is already snapping photos.

“Are you going to do your little routine again,” he asks her but she shakes her head. At least she is not frowning this time. She actually looks like she enjoys herself.

“Come then, my sweetling,” he paraphrases a line from her Weirflix series and steps closer to her. He can put on a show too. There is a little bit of ice cream on her lip and Jaime wipes it with his thumb and licks it. She blushes blotchily red and it's the cutest thing he has seen.

“I would kiss you but I'm afraid you'd kick my balls up my ass,” he tells her quietly and delights when Brienne laughs. It's her real laugh this time, the boisterous honk that makes some nearby pigeons scatter away. It's then when he decides to take a gamble and press his lips to her cheek. The skin underneath his lips is burning with the blush.

He doesn't get kicked.

 _This was the best date ever_ , he thinks later when they walk back to their cars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne in exercise clothes: [art by @knifeears](https://tall-wolf-of-tarth.tumblr.com/post/620284559587753984/knifeears-that-gym-scene-in-modern-aus-click)
> 
> Yes, I made up a boy band called Kingsguards and made Sandor participate. Sorry!  
> Kingsguard members  
> Posh Guard – Jaime  
> Scary Guard – Sandor  
> Baby Guard – Loras  
> Ginger Guard – Addam  
> The King – Renly


	14. Weekend dad Jaime going to Tarth again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some pining at Tarth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on Tumblr prompt: Pining with confessions

##  **Pining with confessions**

The amount of money that Jaime has poured into the helicopter tickets to Tarth would probably bought him a copter of his own but he is happy to pay so he can get there on time. The copter lands behind the ferry terminal and it takes Jaime only 20 minutes to walk over to the playground where Gals kindergarten spends their afternoons to pick up his son.

“Daddy,” the boy greets him with his big blue eyes round. “Is it daddy’s weekend now?”

“Yes, Gal, it’s daddy’s weekend now.” He picks him up to his hip and sighs happily when little sandy hands wrap around his neck.

“What do you want to do this weekend?” he asks later when they walk to the little house he had bought after Brienne moved to Tarth and Gal was born. He wants to be involved in his son's life, even if it means constant travelling between Tarth and King’s Landing.

“Can we go rowing at the pond, daddy?”

“At mommy’s backyard?”

The boy nods solemnly.

“We can, if it’s ok with mommy. We’ll ask her when we call her tonight, ok?”

“Ok,” Gal nods.

“What did you do last weekend with mommy? Did you have fun?”

“We helped grandpa Selwyn to pick apples, and then we had pie.”

Jaime can picture it, Brienne and Gal at Selwyn’s backyard, sun shining at their blond heads. The image makes his heartache. He misses Gal every day he spends apart from him and Brienne every moment of his life.

They had spent a month together at Winterfell, until Jaime’s temporary assignment at the local office had ended and he had returned to King’s Landing. Brienne had called him a few months later, nervous and worried.

“I’m pregnant,” she said. “I won’t ask anything from you, I can manage it all myself,” she continued with a tight voice while Jaime felt his world turning upside down.

“But I want to be involved,” he blurted, already thinking of relocating his work to Winterfell office. “Can I? Will you let me see the baby? And be involved?” He heard her sighing on the phone and felt the dread building.

“Of course you can, Jaime. As much as you want to. It’s just that... I’m moving back to Tarth.”

So Jaime had bought a little house at the edge of Tarth town, and now he spends as much of his time as he can at Tarth. But it’s never enough. Too disruptive to his work, according to his father.

“Can we call mommy now and ask?” interrupts Gal before Jaime can fall too deep into thinking about his commitments at work and to his family and his failings to both.

“Of course, my little lion cub.”

They call her right after coming home.

Brienne sounds happy on the phone and doesn’t mind at all if Jaime and Gal spend their Saturday morning playing at the backyard of Tarth family house.

“Dad’s making cider, so it might be a bit chaotic at the house,” she explains after Gal has left the phone and is digging into his toy box he hasn’t seen for two weeks. “But if you don’t mind the mess, come to have lunch with us.” It’s such a small thing, but it still makes Jaime ridiculously happy.

Jaime’s good mood lasts just a few moments until he gets a phone call from his father.

***

The pond is full of little frogs and Gal runs around the grass giggling and chasing after them. Jaime loads the toys that Gal wanted with him - a toy ship with remote control and a wooden stick for “fishing” - to the boat and fiddles with the oars.

There’s a tiny life jacket for Gal that Brienne has left by the boat and Jaime carefully fits it over Gal’s little body.

“Daddy, how long will you stay this time?”

Jaime smiles.

“Come, my little lion cub, let's go rowing.”

He helps him to climb to the boat, pushes it to the water and jumps into it.

It’s one of Gals favourite play, row to the middle of the pond and pretend to fish.

When he gets bored with it, Jaime lets him put the toy boat to the water and helps him to drive it around the water.

“Gal! Jaime!” He hears Brienne calling them later. She is standing little further away, waving. “Lunch is ready.”

Jaime rows them back and can’t stop thinking of how he once sat on the boat and let Brienne to row them at Red Fork, and he couldn’t look away from the muscles on her legs and arms.

Brienne, strong as ever pulls the boat ashore, lifts Gal out and strips him out of the life jacket while Jaime climbs off the boat.

“Grandpa made pie again,” he hears Brienne telling Gal, who immediately runs towards the house like a little ball of hunger.

Jaime and Brienne follow him with less hurry, and Jaime walks slowly, hoping to spend more time alone with her.

“Brienne,” he stops and sighs by the gate. “Please, wait.” She pauses, one hand on the rusty cast iron, looking back at him. Her eyes are blue like the sky.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What, Jaime?” She bites her lip and looks worried.

“I did something, something rash. You might not like it.”

“What?”

But before he can explain, Gal is running back.

“Daddy, how long are you staying this time?”

“Forever, Gal.” He picks his son up to a hug. “Daddy left his job this morning and is not leaving this time.”

“Sweet,” the boy laughs and demands to be put down again. “I’m going to tell grandpa!” he yells and runs to the house.

“Really, Jaime?” Brienne looks at him with a frown, but there is softness there in her eyes.

“Really.”

She stands there by the gate, still as a statue.

“Are you upset?”

“What are you going to do, Jaime?”

“I don’t know, Brienne. Something completely different maybe.” He steps closer to her.

“Right now I just want to spend time with Gal.” She nods, and looks away towards the meadows. “And you.” He reaches his hand to her cheek, gently, giving her plenty of time to retreat. She doesn’t. Instead, when he touches her, she leans into it.

“I’d like that, Jaime.”

But because he is rash and reckless and he has to tell all of it, he blurts out the words he has carried in his heart so long now.

“Because I love you, Brienne. I love you both so much.” He waits for her to turn away, but she doesn’t, she doesn’t. She smiles to him, nods, and lets him pull her his arms. Later, she takes him to the house with her. This time forever.


	15. two fairly angsty drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two Tumblr prompts I did:  
> Hurt/comfort with love triangle  
> Hurt/comfort with misunderstandings
> 
> You might want to skip the first story if you are Renly fan, there's nothing out of canon there, but still.

**Hurt/comfort with love triangle**

“You’re in shock, Tarth,” Jaime Lannister had said in the hospital parking lot, eyes round with worry. He had then walked Brienne to his fancy car, drove her to his even fancier apartment, put a warm drink in front of her and bundled her to a blanket.

“It’s just that,” she whispers a few hours later to him, “I thought he likes me. Not like he likes – Loras–,” the name tastes like ash in her mouth. “–but as a friend.” She is still shaking, and Jaime has taken her hand into his, thumb moving softly. “But I overheard them, both of them – in the locker rooms –” a groan escapes her, “–he thinks that I´m…” The shame floods over her like a wave.

She pulls her hand away from Jaime’s and covers her face. The words still pour out of her. “And I can’t go home now, how can I when I know that he wants me gone? We’ve lived together for years and I never knew he thinks that I’m a freak, not enough of…” She can’t even say those words aloud. 

Jaime is standing in front of the sofa, hands in tight fists, knuckles white even in the shadows.

“I love him,” Brienne whispers. “And I just wanted to be near him.”

***

**Hurt/comfort with misunderstandings**

It isn’t until Brienne has cast on her arm and her face stitched up she finally remembers to dig out her phone from her pocket. The nurse has her sitting on a bed in the crowded hallway of ER and there is talk about releasing her, but apparently, something still needs to be done, but through the pain and the pills kicking in it’s rather confusing to Brienne and she just nods to the nurse who hurries away.

Brienne knows she’ll need her things from the station, keys to the house at least, so she tries to remember if Pod is working tonight or not, but gets distracted by the missed calls and messages on her phone.

Jaime. She had forgotten in the confusion that he was going to come over to the house to pick up the divorce papers. How is it possible that she had forgotten, when all week this was all she could think about? Which is probably why she got hurt in the first place, being distracted by it all. 

“Where are you?” Jaime had texted hours ago. There is a string of other texts and calls after that, indicating that he was waiting for her at the front door of their -- no--, her house. Her house alone, starting tomorrow when the papers are filed. 

“I’m sorry,” she manages awkwardly text with her left hand and send it. 

She hears someone cursing nearby and for a moment it sounds so much like Jaime that Brienne has to close her eyes so she wouldn’t cry. 

When she opens them, Jaime is standing in front of her, mouth in an angry thin line. It takes Brienne a moment to understand that it’s really him here. 

“How did you know I’m here?” she swallows. Words feel like mush in her mouth. 

“I’m your emergency contact, Brienne. They called me.”

He looks furious. “What happened?”

“There was...” she tries to think a word, “...altercation, and I forgot to call you that I couldn’t make it,” she tries to explain why she didn’t show up at their appointed time.  “I’m so sorry, Jaime, I don’t have the papers with me.” 

“The papers?” he groans and looks away from her and it looks like he is drawing a breath to start one of his big rants but then the nurse shows up again and the air escapes him. The nurse and Jaime talk over Brienne, he signs some papers and frankly it’s a relief because all of it sounds very confusing to Brienne. 

“Jaime,” she sighs when the nurse is leaving. “I hate to ask, but could you perhaps drive me home? I don’t think I have money for the bus.” He is staring at her like she is speaking High Valyrian. 

“For fucks sake,” he sighs but his hand on her back is gentle when he is walking her to his car. 

When she wakes up at his car they are in front of the little house Jaime bought them before the wedding.  Jaime, who apparently has stopped by the station to pick up her bag fishes out the keys from it and opens the door for her. 

“I’ll get you settled in,” he tells her and guides her to the bedroom. 

"Won't your girlfriend mind?" she asks him much later when he is still sitting at the edge of her bed, his hand gently running through her sweaty hair.

"What girlfriend?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh what a damn angst fest... don't worry, they end up happy in both stories.


	16. Who made your shirts, babe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post book-canon au where Brienne needs to do some sewing.

**Who made your shirts, babe?**

Brienne is not sure why she swaps their dinner to a bolt of linen. Maybe it’s because the woman standing on the streetcorner looks like she has reached the very end of her wits or maybe because her children look at Brienne with hollow eyes. But Brienne stops, and when the woman offers the bolt to her, Brienne gives her a half of ham and bag of onions she bought to her dinner. 

It is a bad bargain, of course. Everyone is out of food after the Long Night, and you can’t eat fabric. But they do have dried fish and berries in their saddlebags, and those will get Brienne, Jaime and Pod to the coast where there is fresh fish and hopefully a ship to Tarth. 

It’s good linen though. The kind of fabric that you make shirts from. Light enough to be worn under the woollen jerkins but thick enough to hold multiple washings without tearing. It has a beautiful shine, the edges are woven sharp and it’s bleached to almost blinding whiteness. Essosi, she guesses. 

Brienne hides the bolt to her saddlebag and rides back to their camp. 

“My lady wife,” Jaime greets her with a kiss. “Was there any food in the village?”

“No,” she tries to lie, but her blush betrays her. “Nothing that we would need more than the villagers,” she adds and in the way Jaime laughs softly she guesses that he has a fairly good idea what happened to those ten gold dragons that have vanished from her purse. “Pod snared a rabbit, so we’ll be good," he rolls his eyes and leads her horse to be tied away for the night.

The thing about travelling during late winter is that there are so many hours when there’s nothing more to do than wait. They get stuck for three days in an abandoned small holdfast when a snowstorm rages outside so Brienne and Pod find the little bathhouse and boil everyone’s shirts, smallclothes and neckcloths in a huge cauldron and hung them to dry in the great hall. 

Podrick's shirt is the one that doesn’t survive the washing. 

Lord Tyrion gave to him that shirt when he was still his squire, the boy explains with a frown. It is now ripped to shreds, regardless of all the mending Brienne has done to it in the last months. Jaime hands over one of his own shirts, but that is too big for Podricks small frame, even with the sleeves rolled up. They have now four shirts between them, all Jaime’s, stitched from beautiful expensive cotton and cuffs covered in intricate white embroidery.

The snow is still falling and when Jaime and Podrick amuse themselves with sparring and hunting rabbits in the nearby woods Brienne digs out the bolt of fabric from the bottom of her saddlebag. 

There is not much left in the holdfast, but the big table at the great hall is still there, too big to be stolen or hidden. Brienne cuts the fabric at the table. A good length to the body, and half that to the sleeves, which she cuts out diagonally from the smaller piece. Then the collar, cuffs, and some smaller squares to gussets. Her work cut out for her she takes the pieces to the window seat and starts sewing it together.

Brienne was maybe four years old when her septa had sat her down with a piece of cloth and needle and made her hem neckcloths for her brother. “You’ll have to sew shirts to your husband and children soon,” the woman had explained and soon Brienne was sewing shirts to Bryen Caron, her intended. Whether the boy had worn them or not Brienne did never found out as he had died soon after she had sent the shirts to him to the mainland. Brienne still remembers the endless smocking and embroidering that her septa had made her do on those shirts she never saw later.

There is no time to embroider or smock now, so she just cuts a neck hole, hems the slit, adds neck gussets and gathers the excess fabric to pleats and adds the collar. She then sews the sleeve seams, adds gussets to underarms, and stitches the sleeves to the shirt body. She finishes the shirt up with hemming the bottom edges, attaching cuffs to sleeves and adding simple buttons to collar and sleeves. 

The shirts she had sewn to Ron Connington she claimed for herself, and by the time Ser Humphry had arrived the island, she had abandoned the needle and the sewing basket for the sword and the morning star. Brienne wonders shortly, not the first time, who has made the beautiful shirts that Jaime has. 

“A maid with nimble fingers should be able to sew a shirt in a day,” her septa had lectured her, but Brienne doubts that this simple child’s shirt is what the woman meant. It has taken her two days sitting by the window, with a snowfall outside and Jaime and Podrick mucking around the woods and the castle, and when she finishes her fingers are stiff with unusual exertion. 

When she hands the shirt to Podrick, the boy’s brown eyes fill with water. 

“I’ve never had anything made for me before,” he sniffs and wipes her face carefully to the back of his hand. 

“And you didn’t this time either,” Jaime, forever the snarky one, laughs next to him. “This shirt is made for future Podrick, not you” as Brienne has left plenty of room for the boy to grow. She remembers how she hated too-short sleeves she always had when growing up.

“Thank you, my Lady Ser” the boy blushes greatly when he finally puts the shirt on.

When they are finally at Tarth, and the meadows smell like spring, Brienne takes out the rest of the bolt and cuts out some shirts for Jaime. 

“These shirts I’m not sharing with anyone,” he teases her one morning and pulls the shirt off her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is purely based on the fact that Catherine of Aragon still sew shirts for Henry VIII when he was already trying to annul his marriage to her. And both GOT show and ASOIAF have no shirts on the men and no shifts on women which is plain stupid in a historical sense - it would ruin your fancy clothes!!! so I've headcanoned that everyone actually *does* wear shirts, and high-born women sew shirts to their husbands, brothers and children.  
> Also in this headcanon: Jaime's shirts are sewn by Cersei's handmaids, although she tells Jaime that she made them herself. Brienne buys her shirts ready-made from seamstresses, but lost all hers with altercation with Brotherhood and now is wearing his.


	17. two fluffy prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two fluffy prompts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to spam you all with three new chapters in a day but I wanted to put these out before the influx of new Fic Exchange fics that probably will clog the tag tomorrow. I'm also participating, so feel free to guess which one is mine. They will be all posted to one collection, anonymously, and the authors will be revealed few weeks later.

**Fluff with soulmates**  
  
They sit together on a stone bench at the front of the little sept. Brienne has kicked off her shoes, her naked toes digging into the grass. Jaime looks at their joined hands, the white ribbon wrapped around it obscuring the sword on his wrist. He wishes that he could look at her mark, but it's covered by her pale blue dress, only the rubies on the pommel peaking out under her collarbones. Somewhere behind them, his aunt Genna is talking with the photographer and the stylist.

“Wife,” he asks quietly. Brienne turns to him but she is frowning. “Do you regret this?” he wants to ask her, but instead, he puts his prosthesis to her face and kisses her carefully.

“Why did you do that for?” Her eyes are wide and he has smudged her lipstick a little. I’m in love with my wife, he realises then, quite suddenly.

“Because I wanted to,” he tells her and kisses her again.

***

**Childhood friends with fake dating**

“Jaime,” she bit her lip. “Are you sure about it?”

“Yes, Brienne, I’m sure.” He rolled his eyes and slammed the car door shut and grabbed her hand. “Let’s do this.”

“But no one is going to believe that we are dating,” she tried still to argue while Jaime dragged her towards the familiar door of Lannister mansion.

“We only need to convince our family, the rest can hang.”

Brienne felt her hands shaking when they stepped into the glittering bling of Tywin Lannisters 75th birthday gala. She squeezed Jaime’s hand in terror. Maybe I can hide in the bathroom and let Jaime do the lying, she tried to console herself, but before attempting the escape they were immediately stopped by Jaime’s aunt.

“Jaime!” Genna exclaimed cheerfully. “You brought Brienne, how lovely.” To Brienne amazement Aunty Genna didn’t comment of their joint hands and just kissed Brienne to the cheek and pinched Jaime’s.

“Come, I want to introduce you to some friends.” She dragged them both to a group of people and started the introductions while Brienne listened in half terror.

“...and this is Brienne Tarth, my nephews girlfriend. How long have you been dating now, it must be years?”

Two weeks was their agreed back story, in case someone was asking.

“Really, Jaime, you really should put a ring on her already...” Aunty Genna blabbed on and Brienne could only stare at Lannister matriarch.

“I really should,” she heard Jaime say next to her and when she turned to look at him he had the softest smile at his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the soulmark au will become a real fic in one day, I promise!


	18. Two regency prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the period drama prompts, I would love a mix of 5 (Oh no! I saw your ankle! IT IS THE SEXIEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME!) and 14 (I wasn’t expecting my bodice to literally be ripped off, but now I’m kinda into it.)
> 
> and 
> 
> For the Period Drama Trope Fic Prompts ~ 2 or 18 Please and thank you c:

_For the period drama prompts, I would love a mix of 5 (Oh no! I saw your ankle! IT IS THE SEXIEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME!) and 14 (I wasn’t expecting my bodice to literally be ripped off, but now I’m kinda into it.)_

“Yield,” the big wench yells him. “Throw down the sword!” Never, he thinks and lifts it instead. She thrusts, he parries, steps back and slips on the stone under his heel. _Shit_ , he thinks and grabs something. That something tears and Jaime and the girl both fall down.

“Umph,” the air leaves his lungs when the woman falls on top of him.

For a moment they both are a tangle of limbs, swords and miles of sprigged muslin of her dress until she manages to sit up.

“You tore my dress,” the girl looks at him with loathing. “The bodice, it's ruined.”

It is, the fabric has ripped from the side. Only white shift underneath protects her modesty. Not that she has much to protect there.

The girl has gone completely red on her face and stares at Jaime accusingly. She has the bluest eyes he has ever seen.

“Sorry,” he manages to gulp.

“Sorry?” the girl rolls her eyes and falls down on the grass with her hands on her face. “Lady Olenna is going to have a cow,” she squeaks with a very small voice for a very large woman.

“Was it a favourite dress?” Jaime asks because he wants to hear her talk again. The girl sits up again and looks at the dress. It's crumpled, and there are grass stains on the hem. Her slippers are ridiculously big, and Jaime can see the cords of muscles shifting under her stockings.

“I hate this dress,” she wrinkles her nose. “I'm glad it's ruined.”

“What about Lady Olenna? And her cow?” Young girls always have the most amusing expressions, Jaime thinks. He needs to ask Myrcella what it means, to have a cow. The girl, in the meanwhile, stands up and shakes off her hems. The bodice hangs limply to one side while the girl hunts something from the pocket under her dress. She produces a needle-case, shakes few pins to her palm and tries to pin the bodice up.

“She will yell a little, I suppose,” she says quietly and struggles with her task.

“You're better with a sword than dressing pins,” Jaime remarks and takes the pin from her fingers. “May I?” he asks. The girl doesn't answer, goes even redder but nods. “You need to get in the house without her noticing. She won't know then unless you tell her.” Jaime takes the fabric and stretches it across her body and tries to wiggle in the pin without stabbing her.

“She won't be angry long,” the girl says nervously. “At least she didn't, last time.”

Jaime looks up from his work. “Who tore your dress last time? And stand still, or I'll prick you.”

He manages to attach the lower part and the girl gives him another pin.

“No one did. I tore it myself when I climbed to a tree.” Jaime pushes his fingers under the edge of her chemise to pin the top edge of her bodice to it. Her skin is burning under his fingers.

“Climbing trees and fishing swords out of the brooks...” He looks up to her face. “How old are you, girl?” The bodice is now in place and he retreats.

“I'm twenty, Ser. And my name is Brienne. Lady Brienne Tarth.”

_Shit_ , Jaime's brain freezes. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, Crone's tits, and fuck_. He did not just have a sword fight with Brienne of fucking Tarth.

“I'm Jaime,” he gulps and manages to continue. “I'm Captain Jaime Lannister.”

“I know who you are,” Lady Brienne Tarth huffs, gathers the swords from the grass and stomps away. “And it’s my sword now!”

*** Half an hour before***

Jaime stands by the brook, hidden between the gazebo and the hibiscus shrubs. He should be able to spot Cersei if she decides to come, but now he has nothing more to do than hide and wait.

Instead of his sister another woman appears. She is tall, the tallest woman he has ever seen and when she comes to the brook, she looks around, sits down to the bank and proceeds to pull off her slippers and stockings. She puts them to a neat pile to nearby stone, blue ribbons she used as garters on top of it. Jaime can't do anything besides staring her. He shouldn't, it's not gentlemanly to stare her, but the pale skin of her ankles mesmerises him. The woman, or girl as he sees her now, -- a quite ugly creature -- stands up, lifts her skirts up and steps into the brook.

_Fuck_ , Jaime thinks, _fuck_. _Her legs._ Jaime has never seen a woman's legs besides his sister's. The girl is standing in the shallow water and Jaime feels his cock twitching.

She walks forward a few steps looking intently into the water, her skirts held in her hand. Jaime can see her legs up until her knees and when she turns he spots pale skin of her thigh.

“Aha!” she exclaims, bends over -- and Jaime is now quite hard -- and fishes two swords out of the water. One of them, Jaime spots, is the Brightroar.

“Hey!” he calls and steps out from his hiding place. “That's my sword!”

* * *

_For the Period Drama Trope Fic Prompts ~ 2 or 18 Please and thank you c:_

Brienne is not wearing gloves, Jaime notices. She stands in the crowd, head taller than any woman or man and her big blue eyes wide open. She is holding her gloves in her hands, twisting them nervously. When the crowd starts to move to the ballroom, she puts her hand to the arm of Sergeant Hunt and Jaime follows them. It's rude of him not to escort any ladies himself, but he doesn't care. He strides with determination between the guests until he is right behind Hunt and Brienne. Brienne is wearing a pink dress, delicate muslin dotted with strawberries and wines. The colour makes her skin glow, and Jaime wants to press his lips to her neck and taste her freckles.

He wants to pull her away from Sergeant Hunt, put her hand to the crook of _his_ arm and say terrible things to her ear until she would turn red with anger.

But he cannot.

“Dreadful crowd,” he says instead and watches her turn towards him.

“Captain Lannister,” she blushes, red and white blotches colouring her face. “Are you looking for your sister?”

“Perhaps,” he says and pretends to look around the sea of people. The crowd stops and so do they. Sergeant Hunt is talking to some bearded man next to him.

“No,” Jaime looks at Brienne again. He lets his hand brush against hers, and Brienne's eyes go wide. “I was looking for you,” he whispers and takes her hand to his.

He can hold it only for a short moment before the crowd moves again and takes her from him.


	19. The sex quiz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sex quiz

** The sex quiz **

Have you ever seen it? _Yes._

Have you ever touched it? _Almost_.

Have you ever done it? _I don't think so._

If you answered “No,” would you do it? _Yes._

Who would you do it with (your name is not in this so answer honestly)? _Jaime Lannister_

Brienne is not sure what makes her write Jaime Lannister to the last question. It would be pitiful to write Renly there because Margaery would surely tell Loras, and Loras would tell Renly and they would all be amused by it and besides, she has more or less gotten over it already. And Brienne would really not have sex with Jaime Lannister, in a way that Brienne wouldn't also have sex with Hozier or Charlize Theron or young Arthur Dayne (around the time of Oathkeeper trilogy when Arthur Dayne was still young and hot), simply because the possibility of it happening is less than a zero.

Jaime Lannister is so gorgeous and pretty that Brienne feels butterflies in her belly every time she sees his golden mop of hair and his golden body grace the school hallways. Jaime Lannister is also very much unavailable, as he is dating Cersei Baratheon who is equally golden and pretty. Cersei and Jaime look so much alike that everyone calls them twins, and according to rumours they are distant cousins. Brienne is two metres tall, muscular, ghostly pale and is covered with freckles and she has no chance of ever attracting any kind of attention from Jaime Lannister.

Still, Brienne writes Jaime Lannister to the sex quiz, folds the paper, and drops it behind her, next to Sansa's table.

***

“Do you know Brienne Tarth?” asks Jaime. He and Addam are dicking around the gym, but Jaime keeps thinking about the paper he picked up from the study room floor in the morning.

“That tall freckled sophomore? What about her?” Jaime considers telling Addam about the note – the sex quiz – in his pocket. The damn note is confusing. Did Brienne mean him to see it? From any other girl that would make sense, but that tall sophomore is not the flirty type. She is more like the painfully shy type. The note was probably meant to the girl who had been sitting next to Jaime. The tall redhead. Sandy or something.

“She never looks at me.”

“Who?” Addam is looking at someone bending over next to free weights.

“Brienne Tarth.”

“What about her?”

“She never looks at me.” Brienne has these big blue eyes, too big for her awkward face. Prettiest eyes he has ever seen. Jaime has never seen those eyes looking at him.

Why doesn't Brienne Tarth look at him?

Jaime intends to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I'm not gonna name the film that this au is from because it hasn't held up the time and is a pile of racist and misogynist 💩 But the teenage me loved Sam and Jake romance, mainly mutual pining. It's very unlikely that I will write any more of this. If you want to know how this ends for JB? well it ends like exactly like the movie. There's a sports car in front of the sept, a cake and a kiss. Nothing else from the movie is salvageable. it's a pile of 💩 , so there is no point of writing of it.


	20. is that why you're here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a rather angsty drabble where Brienne can't sleep.

Brienne knocks on his door so lightly that she probably shouldn't even bother. It's the middle of the night and Jaime is most likely already asleep, so she turns away from the door to go back to her own room. She can only take a step before the door opens behind her.

“Tarth?” she hears Jaime and she freezes. “What's wrong?”

Jaime looks sleepy and ruffled, in low-slung pyjama pants and tight shirt. Brienne swallows. This was a bad idea. The worst idea.

“Nothing,” she whispers and turns around again to leave but suddenly Jaime is next to her. He grabs her arm and stops her.

“What's wrong?” he asks again in a lower voice. Brienne can smell his aftershave and she closes her eyes for a moment.

“I couldn't sleep,” she whispers. His body next to him wires up. His hand -- the one in the cast-- snakes to Brienne's waist and he pulls her nearer.

“You couldn't sleep?” Jaime's breath is hot against her ear. “So you came to me?”

“Yes,” Brienne whispers and feels very stupid. “You said...” She stops herself and tries to pull away from him. It was stupid to come to his door, he had made a joke at that time, he didn't mean it.

But Jaime doesn't let go of her. Instead, he moves his hand up her side, until it stops just below her breast.

Brienne opens her eyes and looks at him. His eyes are dark in the low light. "Tell me."

“You said,” she whispers and looks down at her hand on his shoulder, “that to get a good night's sleep I need a good fuck first. And then you said you can help me with that if I want to.”

The world stands still around them. The only sound is Jaime's ragged breath and her own thundering heartbeat.

“Is that why you're here, Brienne?”

She moves her hand down to his chest and feels his heart beating against her palm.

This is Jaime, she thinks. She used to hate him, but then they almost died together and now she doesn't remember what it felt like to not miss him constantly.

Brienne can't sleep because Jaime is not there with her. If she closes her eyes images of the past start dancing inside her eyelids and she has to stand up and pace her room again.

This is Jaime. Golden and beautiful and cruel. Jaime, who came back to her through the snow and ash, looking like a half-god and half corpse. Jaime, who seeks out her eyes across the lecture halls and ignores her when they sit next to each other in the common room.

“Hey,” he nudges her with his nose. “Is that why you're here? To get a good fuck?”

She draws breath and looks up to his eyes again. “Yes."

“Good.” He pulls her to his room.


	21. is that why you're here pt 2 (explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow up on the previous chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've upped the rating to Explicit as apparently there is smut now.

is that why you're here pt 2

Brienne is always gone when he wakes up. No matter how far under the bed Jaime kicks her clothes or how tightly he wraps himself around her before falling asleep, the bed beside him is always empty in the morning. Only the smell of her shampoo on his pillow is there to remind him she was there.

She doesn't come to him every night. Jaime suspects she leaves deliberate and carefully randomized gaps in their nightly visits. But every night he still hopes to hear the hesitant, quiet knock on his door.

“You don't need to knock. The door is unlocked, just come in,” he told her once but she shook her head. She always knocks and always waits until he opens the door for her to pull her in.

“I told you not to knock,” he grumbles.

“You might have company,” she says quietly and her cheekbones stain with red blotches.

“Like who?” His hands are already roaming her, pulling off her frayed sweater, searching for the bare skin under her pyjama bottoms. “You are the only one I let in here.”

It's the truth, but he knows that she doesn't believe her. He suspects it's because she walked in on him and Pia once at Pia's room, but that was ages ago.

Before.

They tumble to his bed, and Brienne carefully puts away her clothes to the chair. Smart girl, Jaime chuckles. Once he managed to hide her pants behind his dirty clothes hamper and she left with wearing his sweats, he suspects as he didn't find them in the morning. He found his pants later, hanging from his doorknob outside his room when he left to class, but Jaime took great pleasure wearing Brienne's team sweats to the classes until she stole them back next night.

But they are now naked, which is the best way to be with Brienne and soon she is pink and panting and pliable under him. He loves and hates how she moans his name to his ear, hates that she keeps quiet so they wouldn't be heard through the paper-thin walls of the dorms, loves how she wails against his skin when she comes apart.

She holds him close when he is nearing his, her calloused hands on his skin so gentle and her blue eyes half hooded. “Fuck,” he curses when he comes, his release washing over him like a wave in a stormy sea.

On the nights Brienne doesn't come to his bed when he takes himself to his hand he always comes with her name on his lips. When she is there with him in the bed, around him, he chokes it back, cursing instead. _Brienne_ , he thinks instead when he pulls out of her and collapses next to her.

“Was it good?” he demands from her, “did you like it?” -- he is always so needy. They move around the bed, limbs shifting and finding comfortable positions for sleep. “Yes,” she sighs, “'twas good,” she's already falling to sleep. “Don't let it get into your head,” she adds and snuggles against his front while he laughs quietly to her shoulder in the darkness. He wraps his arm around her waist and laces his fingers around hers to hold her hand while she sleeps.

Whenever Jaime masturbates, he always fantasizes about fucking her somewhere else, in someplace where they don't need to be quiet. A wide bed, sunlight pouring out from the window to her creamy skin and Brienne crying out loud when she comes. Right now, Jaime closes his eyes and listens Brienne's breath slowing as she falls asleep. It would be somewhere warm, he thinks about this imaginary room. A cabin at Summer Isles maybe. There would be sunshine, and the sea would be just outside the room.

It would be nothing like that ski lodge.

Brienne whimpers in her sleep and Jaime lets go of her hand. He must have squeezed it too hard.

“Shh,” he tries to soothe her, but she turns around in bed.

“Jaime,” she sounds so young now, “get up, Jaime,” she whimpers. She gets nightmares, he has learnt, but she quiets when he wraps his arms around her and pets her back.

“Shh, you're alright,” he whispers, “we're alright.” She quiets down and slumps against him again. He puts his hand over hers and stares at the ceiling. The semester will end soon, and they will leave their separate ways for the annual leave. Jaime will go to Casterly, where the winter storms will roar and the waves beat against the castle walls. It's the fourth year of the Long Winter and Jaime misses the summer and the warmth.

He closes his eyes again and thinks about the room with open windows to the sea. Just outside the door would be the beach where they could lay on the towels after swimming. He thinks about white sand sticking to freckled skin and the smell of the sunscreen. Brienne had worn sunscreen on her face even when skiing at Vale, and he had laughed at her stupidly large bottle of SPF95. In Summer Isles, she would have to cover herself in that stuff from head to toes.

They would wake up in the morning, and he would rub the sunscreen to her skin. He would kiss her in an overly large bed and Brienne would not hold back and neither would he.

Jaime drifts off to sleep, and when he wakes up Brienne is gone again from his bed.


	22. is that why you're here pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is that why you're here pt 3. Jaime asks for things.

is that why you're here pt 3

Brienne rubs her eyes and tries to concentrate on words on the page when a backpack lands on the table and Jaime slumps to the chair next to her. She is not sure how Jaime has sussed out where in the library she likes to sit and study, but he seeks her out from time to time to work next to her. He is pretty good study partner, except when he gets bored and starts to mess with her, but now Jaime doesn't take out his laptop or books, or not even his cell phone to send memes to her, just sits sullenly, hands stuffed deep into his coat pocket.

“What's wrong?” Brienne sighs and puts away her pencil. She is not going to get anything done when he wallows so loudly.

“Nothing,” Jaime pouts and kicks the desk leg. “My therapist is a dick,” he adds when Brienne lifts her eyebrow.

“Did he give you homework again?” Jaime doesn't answer but stares out of the window. There is nothing to see outside, as its snowing like usual. Big fat snowflakes fall down from the sky and you can't see even the trees outside the library, but Jaime stares it like the snow offends him. Brienne sighs and picks up her pen again. She has too much work to do to play games with him. Jaime, who sometimes has a maturity level of a preschooler, leans forward, picks the pen out of her hands and puts it in his pocket. Brienne refrains from rolling her eyes.

“You haven't been over,” he grumbles. Brienne sighs. She hasn't. Is that's why he is so cranky?

“It's crunch time, and I've been pulling all-nighters. I went to bed at four last two nights.”

“You could still come over. I wouldn't care if it's middle of the night or the morning.”

“Alright,” Brienne knows that she is not going to go bang on his door at four am.

Jaime pouts some more, and shifts around in his chair. Takes his hands out from the pockets and puts them on the table, then puts them in the pocket again. He is clearly struggling with something, and Brienne bites her lip not to hurry him. He leans forward again and looks around. There is only Dacey Mormont sitting a few tables away and wearing a headset anyway.

He finally blurts something.

“Can you come over tonight?”

He has never asked her to come over before. They haven't really talked about their arrangement and the only reference to their activities in Jaime's rooms has been him smirking at her across the common room and occasional dirty talk he has whispered to her ear somewhere inappropriate. _I want to fuck you with my tongue,_ he had whispered to her in the cafeteria queue once and Brienne's face had gone so hot that she probably was redder than a fire truck. But Jaime has never asked her to come over.

“Forget it,” he grumbles and starts to stand up, as he apparently has a patience of a hungry kitten.

“Jaime,” Brienne puts her hand on his arm and pulls him down again. “Did something happen?”

He rubs his face with his hand.

“I just had a really shitty day.”

“I would come, but...” she feels her face going red and Jaime starts looking pissy again. Brienne groans. “It's just that I have my period,” she whispers.

She expects him to laugh at her or quip something stupid, but he just looks relieved.

“I don't care about that. Just come over.” He leans closer to her and lowers his voice. “We don't have to fuck or anything. We can just study together or watch something. And sleep.”

That had happened once before, her going to his room and ending up just sleeping in his bed, but it had been an accident. When Brienne had come over Jaime had been finishing an essay. His hair was up in a lopsided bun, tied with a hair-tie that had been probably nicked from Brienne. “Give me ten minutes,” he had said and Brienne had stretched on his bed and promptly fallen asleep to the sound of his typing. When she had woken up, Jaime had been sleeping next to her in his day clothes, his hand clutching her gansey.

“Brienne,” he says quietly now, and the look on his face is intense. “I'd like you to come over.”

“Alright,” she agrees and his smile is as bright as the sun at the summer. “Give me twenty minutes to finish this chapter first, ok?”

He gives back her pencil without a fight.

They end up watching a film on his laptop, laying side by side on his bed. Jaime is wearing a pair of woollen socks he has stolen from Brienne and keeps nudging her feet with his own.

“Ask me what homework my therapist gave me,” he commands her when he gets bored with the movie.

“What homework did your therapist gave you, Jaime?” Brienne sighs and pauses the video. He looks pensive and moody again.

“He said I need to ask for things.”

“What kind of things?” Jaime has gone to therapy ever since the incident at the Vale, and he hates it. He particularly hates the homework he gets from there.

“He said that if I want something from someone then I need to ask for it. And not just expect the other person just to know.” Jaime doesn't look at Brienne when he says that and fidgets with the laptop instead. Closes the lid, opens it a little and closes it again. Brienne fights back her urge to pull his hand away from the laptop.

She hadn't ever thought that it's hard for Jaime to ask things. He confident and cocky, and words come out of his mouth without a stumble. But she doesn't remember Jaime ever asking anything from her. He jokes about things but never asks.

Brienne never asks anything either, mainly because she never gets what she wants.

“Do you want to ask something from me?” she looks at him.

“Yes.” He starts to fidget with the laptop lid again.

“Jaime, just ask.”

He pushes away the laptop and looks at her.

“I want to have breakfast with you tomorrow. In that cafe you like.”

That doesn't sound so bad. They can have breakfast together. Brienne starts thinking about the logistics of leaving the room. Maybe she can meet him outside and they can walk to the cafe together. That wouldn't be weird even if someone would see. But before she can say yes, Jaime continues.

“And I want to kiss you. In the common room, where everyone can see us.”

Oh.

Brienne's brain freezes for a moment. Her first reaction is to suspect that there is a bet, or it's some sort of stupid dare, but Jaime looks so serious and almost upset.

_Oh._

She puts her hands on her burning cheeks. “You want to kiss me in the common room?” Her voice comes out weirdly high. Jaime looks amused.

“Yes. And in the cafe, and in the library.”

“Where everyone can see us?”

They haven't been out in public together. Well, they do hang out in the dorm common room, and sometimes they go to eat together, and last week Pia asked Brienne if she is dating Jaime, so she is pretty sure that at least some people suspect that there is something going on between them. But kissing in front of the others. Everyone is so gossipy at the dorms. And Brienne hasn't kissed anyone like that before, in public. She feels her face heating up again.

“You don't have to say yes, I won't get upset.” But he is already upset, he has been moody and pensive all day. Is he upset, because he thinks _Brienne_ doesn't want others to know that they are... Whatever they are. The thought is absurd. Surely it's the other way around.

“Can I think about it first?” she tries to buy time.

Jaime groans, hides the laptop under the bed and slides himself down until his face is in level with Brienne's stomach. He snakes his hand under Brienne's gansey and t-shirt and hides his face to her side. When he starts talking his voice comes out all muffled.

“I want to do all the stupid shit with you. Relationship shit. Like, take you out, even if it's crunch time and we're too busy to date properly. And I want to study together so you can scold me when I distract you too much.”

“We already study together,” Brienne smiles. Jaime starts rubbing circles on her belly where she is swollen and sore. He burrows further into Brienne's side and continues his tirade.

“Yes, but I want to distract you with other things besides messing with your things. I want to make out with you in the library so that that stupid bearded guy who always eats yoghurt will stop ogling you.”

“Tormund?”

“Yeah, fucking Tormund.” Brienne is not sure that making out with Jaime in the library will stop Tormund ogling her, but it might be worth a shot. She pushes her fingers to Jaime's soft golden hair and this time his groan comes out more like a purr. “And I want to see you during the break.”

It's three weeks until the mid-year break, and Brienne's stomach lurches at the thought that she might not have to go without seeing him for all the holidays.

“I'll be at Tarth. I promised to help my uncle at his store...”

“Then I'll come to Tarth. I want to see Tarth.”

Brienne can't see his face, but she is sure that he is pouting, even when his face is buried in the bedding.

“Just how many things your therapist told you to ask for?”

“Just three. So will you?”

“Will I what, Jaime? And can you please come out? I can't talk with you when you are hiding like that.” He unburrows himself and comes back up to her to sit next to her. He looks adorably ruffled.

“Will you have breakfast with me tomorrow in that cafe you like?”

“Of course, Jaime.”

He leans over and kisses her cheek. “We'll have to go together, in the morning. And you can't sneak out before that.”

“Fine,” Brienne agrees and sighs. The semester is almost over anyway, whatever storm they will cause by going public will be over after the holidays. “I think some people already know about us. Gilly surely knows that I don't sleep in my bed and Dacey Mormont saw me sneaking out from here one morning.” Jaime's smile is bright again.

“What did Dacey say?”

“She didn't say anything,” Brienne snorts. “She just gave me a high five.”

Jaime laughs and then surges up to kiss her. They tumble around the bed, just kissing and laughing until Jaime sits up again and tries to look serious.

“And will you let me kiss you in the common room, where everyone can see us?”

Brienne bites her lip.

“You do realise that Taena Merryweather will call your sister and report about it immediately?” Jaime winces at the mention of his sister but looks resolute right after.

“I don't give a shit about what my sister thinks.”

Brienne thinks a little. “Do you really want to come to Tarth to see me during the holidays?”

“Yes, and I _will_ come unless you'll tell me I can't.”

“It will be boring. There's nothing to do there in the winter and I'll be working most of the days.”

He just shakes his head and grins. “I'll come and help you in the store.”

“Jaime, you don't even know what we sell in the store.” Brienne is sure that the Uncle Endrews knitting club for gay men will love Jaime hanging out in the yarn store. “Alright then.”

Jaime grabs her waist and pulls her down to the bed again and Brienne squeaks and laughs when he tickles her side. She has to wrestle him and pin his hands above his head to make him stop. He looks way too gleeful about the way she holds him, so Brienne lets go and lay down to the bed.

“We can have breakfast tomorrow in that cafe I like, and then we can come and study in the common room, but you can't distract me too much because I really need to finish that essay. When I've finished it you can kiss me in the common room. Where everyone can see us.”

So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for everyone who wanted to know more about what happened in the Vale. I don't know what happened there!! Something canon-typical with Mummers and the Goat, but I don't want to write that. I write fluff.
> 
> So the knitting stuff sneaked itself into this fic too... It's just my headcanon that Tarth is the biggest wool producer in Westeros and everyone are big knitters at Tarth.


	23. tea things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there is no plot... just tea things. Thanks for Teaandbanjo for prompting me!!!

It's been raining for days now, and the chill is sweeping into Jaime's bones. He tries again to start the kettle, but the little light doesn't come on when he presses the button. The tea mug and the milk carton are both on the counter right next to the red and gold tin of Prince of Westerlands Best Blend that had cost 7 dragons to be shipped to Tarth. Jaime tries the light switch on the wall again, but the light bulb stays off like it has done all day today and yesterday. He sighs and stuffs the milk back to the fridge. It's slightly dubious anyway, with the fridge being off so long.

Jaime sighs again and goes to the living room to stare out at the grill in his backyard. It works with gas, and if he'd put a saucepan on the grid, he probably could heat the water for his tea, but the amount of rain falling from the sky doesn't really invite him to go outside. And the pan would probably fill up with sky-water before boiling, Jaime suspects.

Instead, he watches the sea, white foam caps riding the waves that roll to the sandy beach. The glass windows of his villa are rattling in the wind. Jaime pulls the sleeves of his frayed sweater closer and shivers. If he would turn a little to his left, he could see the other villa, identical to the one his renting but pink instead of yellow.

The wench who lives there is handy, Jaime knows. She would know how to heat the water without power. Yesterday Jaime saw smoke coming out of the chimney of the pink villa, and there was a glowing light in her window.

The wench comes to the door with her pretty eyes wide with surprise but lets him into her kitchen. It's warm, heated by a curious cast-iron stove at the corner of the room. The kettle is not plastic but made out of metal and with strawberries painted on its side. Brienne has set the tea things to the kitchen table while they are waiting for the water to boil. She stands next to the table, her big freckled hands sorting through balls of wool in a wicker basket.

“It should come back before midnight,” she tells Jaime quietly. She has this odd lilt in her voice like the other islanders at Tarth, but coming from her it sounds charming instead of old-fashioned. “Didn't you get a text from the power company?”

“My phone died when I used it as a flashlight,” Jaime admits.

The kettle starts to whistle. Brienne puts the yarn she is holding to the table and lifts the kettle on top of a cast-iron trivet. She puts two tea bags from gold and red tin to the teapot and pours the water into the pot. When she turns around to shuffle through kitchen cabinets, Jaime picks up a ball that was in her hands. It's deep blue and smells odd. “Vat dyed Indigo,” reads the label.

A plate of cookies and a jar of golden honey appear to the table. The biggest miracle is the carton of milk that Brienne fishes out from a cubby hole under the kitchen floor. “Old school freezer,” she shrugs and closes the hatch.

The tea is the best that Jaime has ever had in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This au is named "bald Jaime au" in my file. Because he is bald. and has an awful beard. He pretty much looks like Jaime I in ASOS, in a modern rich man way. Google "Kanye in grey hobo sweater" to find out what Jaime is wearing.
> 
> Also, I had a huge migraine while writing this so it probably doesn't make any sense.


	24. Regency prompt: Emotionally repressed man smoulders in a corner.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Period Drama Trope: 1) Emotionally repressed man smoulders in a corner. Hyle Hunt, please!

Period Drama Trope: 1) Emotionally repressed man smoulders in a corner. Hyle Hunt, please!

Meeting Miss Brienne Tarth was like finding a pot of gold, thinks Hyle Hunt. A pot that everyone else has ignored until now and only Hyle had been wise enough to realise what's inside. The girl is extraordinarily ugly -- tall and wide, her face covered in freckles and her lips thick and swollen. But who cares about her freckles, thinks Seargent Hunt, when Miss Tarth is worth 20 000 dragons and will inherit a whole island. But now, at Lady Olenna's spring ball someone has just marched in the room and grabbed that sweet pot of gold away from Hyle's reach. Or to say it plainly, Miss Tarth is dancing with Captain Jaime Lannister, and they are leading the set of the first quadrille.

Hyle finishes his glass of punch and goes to fill it again. Nothing has gone according to his plan. The plan had been that Hyle would send Brienne flowers so she could wear them to the ball and then Hyle would wait at least two sets before asking Brienne to dance with him. After being ignored the first half of the ball, the ugly girl would surely be glad to dance with him and then Hyle could tell her that he is willing to marry her.

The plan has failed spectacularly.

Firstly, Miss Tarth is not wearing the roses Hyle sent her. The bloody bundle cost him five dragons and she is not wearing a single rose! Instead, her hair is adorned with forget-me-nots, which Hyle could have picked from the hedgerows for free. And then Miss Tarth did not sit out the first half of the ball at all. She danced the first set with Captain Lannister, the second set with Captain Marbrand, and now she is dancing again with damn Lannister. Why would Captain Lannister care about Miss Tarth, Hyle did not understand. Lannister has enough riches of his own as he is the heir to Casterly Rock which has actual gold mines.

When Hyle had tried to talk to Brienne between the dances, Lannister had glared at him. Not that Hyle cares about Lannister's glares. What he cares about is how he will get the Tarth heiress to marry him.

If not for her fortune, why would Lannister want to dance with Brienne at all? She is certainly the ugliest creature in the room. Her face is all red with the exercise and she has been chewing her lips again which has made them very red and even more swollen than usual. Brienne goes even redder when Lannister leans over to her ear and whispers something. She looks angry, which is good. Surely when this set is over, she will agree to dance with Hyle.

When the set finishes, Brienne storms out the room, leaving Lannister glaring after her. _Good_ , thinks Hyle and empties his glass. Surely she will dance with him now, he thinks while searching the poor creature through the crowded rooms. It takes him a while to spot Miss Tarth entering the conservatory.

Miss Brienne Tarth is many things, but inconspicuous she is not. Hyle spots her blue silk dress behind a potted pineapple tree. Brienne looks quite like a bear stuffed in a dress, thinks Hyle, but when he gets near her, the jest dies in his mouth. Someone else has wrapped his hands around Hyle's pot of gold. Captain Lannister is holding Miss Tarth's face like it's something delicate. Hyle's feet stop moving and he is forced to watch Jaime Lannister press a soft kiss to Brienne's swollen lips.

“Yes, Jaime,” Hyle hears Brienne sighing when Lannister pulls away, and then he is looking at Miss Tarth like she is worth a lot more than a pot of gold.


End file.
